


All the truth about Jimmy Portman

by Felpata_Lupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Community: HPFT, Hogwarts First Year, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felpata_Lupin/pseuds/Felpata_Lupin
Summary: Destiny is the result of people's choices. And any single choice can change it completely.In this AU the Marauders are still alive and free (more or less...), Neville Longbottom is the guy with the scar, and Harry... Well, just read and find out!Updates every two weekends (or at least I'll try)





	1. The Hogwarts' Express

**Author's Note:**

> Stunning banner by abhorsen
> 
> Disclaimer: some features in this chapter are inspired to J.K. Rowling's _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter 6 - The journey from Platform Nine and Three-quarters_. Anything you recognize is her property, not mine.

Peter Portman smiled down at his son, who was eyeing the barrier between platforms nine and ten with concern. "Don't worry, you won't crush onto it... Do you think I would tell you to run into a solid wall?"

Jimmy shook his head, but didn't seem any more calm. Peter couldn't help but chuckle as he gave him a little push on his back. With his eyes firmly shut and the beating of his heart resounding in his ears, Jimmy took off running.

Once he reopened his eyes, he found himself on a new platform, crowded with people. A sparkling, red engine was halted there, surrounded by kids jostling each other to get themselves and their trunks onto the train.

"Let's find you a compartment, shall we?" his father's voice asked suddenly from next to him. Jimmy nodded again, and the two of them made their way through the crowd.

They found a free compartment at the rear of the train. Together they lifted Jimmy's trunk onto the rack, and then Peter brought his son into a breath-taking hug. "Stay safe, alright? And behave. Try not to get into trouble within the first week."

Jimmy rolled his eyes at the recommendation. "Why would you think I'll get into trouble?"

 _Because that's what your father did_... Peter kept the thought to himself and went on, pretending to ignore the question. "Just be good. And enjoy yourself. And write as often as you can. And-"

"Dad!" Jimmy complained, exasperated. Sometimes his father was just too protective...

"Yes... I know... Sorry... I just want to be sure you'll be okay."

Peter was scared. Not just like any parent would be seeing his eleven-year-old son leave for a boarding school and separating from him for months for the first time; what scared Peter was the knowledge that his son wasn't just any boy, even if he was the only one who knew. At least he hoped... What if someone made the connection? What if someone discovered their secret? He didn't want to even consider that possibility.

"I will, Dad. It'll be fine," Jimmy said, trying to sound heartening. It was a bit weird that he was the one to encourage his father and not the other way around. Sometime Jimmy wondered who was the adult between the two of them...

Peter sighed, then looked at his son straight in the eyes. "One last thing, James."

Jimmy stared back at him attentively. His father never called him James, unless he was truly angry or he had to say something really important.

"You remember what I told about the Sorting, don't you?"

Uncertainty and worry appeared on Jimmy's face. Despite not knowing much about Hogwarts' Houses, the thought of the Sorting had been troubling him quite a lot. "Yes, I do..." he replied, slowly. "But..."

"But nothing," Peter interrupted resolute. "I don't care which House you'll be sorted into. The Sorting Hat knows what it does, so trust its judgement. Don't force it to sort you into a House which doesn't truly suit you. It would do more damage than good."

"But what if it wants to put me in Slytherin?" From the little research Jimmy had done, that seemed to be the House all British Dark wizards belonged to. Jimmy had found out that even Voldemort himself had been a Slytherin. He really didn't want to be one as well.

"Then Slytherin House will gain a brilliant new student. I wouldn't mind, and you shouldn't as well," Peter said sternly. Then he opened in a smile again. "Besides, I'm quite sure Slytherin's not the House for you. Green is definitely not your color."

Jimmy rolled his eyes once more at the bad joke attempt but Peter missed it as he glimpsed at his watch. "I really should go, now..." He tried to keep the smile on his face, but he couldn't avoid the melanchonic note in his voice.

As if on cue, they heard the train whistle. Jimmy hugged his father briefly. "Bye, Dad." He tried to keep the sudden sadness out of his voice. He hated long, teary goodbyes; he'd had enough of those when he and his father had left the States. It was much better cut it short and be gone. And after all, he was going to see his father at Christmas, it wasn't that long of a time.

"Bye, son," Peter answered, making an effort in keeping his emotions in control as well. He got off the train just mere seconds before it started moving and continued waving until it was out of sight. Only then did he allow a single tear to cross his cheek. His James was going to be alright, and that was all that mattered.

*

Jimmy spent the first half hour of the trip alone, which was fine with him; he didn't really feel like making new acquaintances at that moment. He reread for what must've been the millionth time the letter that he'd received from Jennifer Sanders, his best friend back in Baltimore, a week before. It was a long and detailed report of all the amusing things she'd been doing since he left and her excitement about starting her first year at Ilvermorny. It made Jimmy both nostalgic and envious. He missed Jenny so much... He missed Baltimore and his old life and all his friends back there so much... Why had his father to move back to England? Why was he so obsessed with stupid Hogwarts? Couldn't he just leave things the way they were?

Jimmy put the stupid letter away; it was only making him feel more melancholic and homesick than he already was. Instead, he started flipping through the pages of the Daily Prophet, the main local newspaper, in the hope of finding something interesting. There wasn't much, boring articles about politics and finance for most. In the end he stopped at the game page, took a quill and started filling out a crossword puzzle.

He was so immersed in it that he didn't even notice the red haired boy peeking timidly into his compartment until he spoke. "Do you mind? The train is all crowded..." he asked uncertain from the doorway.

"Mmmm..." Jimmy shrugged uninterested. The boy sat down in front of him and gave him a small, tentative smile, but Jimmy just wasn't in the mood for social interactions. He focused back on his crossword, pretty much ignoring his new companion.

*

Ron wasn't enjoying too much sitting in front of the unknown kid who hadn't spared him a glance yet. Sure, it was better than doing the whole trip standing, but the silence was starting to make him uncomfortable and he didn't really know how to start up a conversation; he had never had many interactions with other kids his age, aside his siblings.

He tried to get distracted by the landscape out of the window, even if it was far from interesting. Then, suddenly, the boy lifted his eyes on him. "It kills with looks," he said, staring at him expectantly.

"What?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Four vertical. It kills with looks. Do you know what it is? Starts with B. Eight letters."

The only thing that came to Ron's mind was his mother. Maybe his little sister, too... Ginny's looks could be indeed deathly when she got mad. But neither she nor his mother had a name which started with B or which was eight letters long. Besides, how would they be in a crossword puzzle? "Erm... No idea..."

The boy huffed disappointed and went back to his crossword puzzle, completely ignoring Ron once again.

"I'm Ron Weasley, anyway."

The annoyance and reproach in his voice seemed to have some effect on the other kid, since he blushed and started folding the newspaper slowly. "Oh... erm... yeah... sorry..." he mumbled, clearly embarassed. "I'm James Portman, nice to meet you... But you can call me Jimmy, everyone does," he concluded, almost as an afterthought.

Since that first awkward exchange, Jimmy abandoned his aloof attitude. The two kids soon discovered that they quite enjoyed each other's company. They talked a lot about everything, from families (which essentially meant Ron complained about the misfortune of being the sixth of seven children and Jimmy complained about the misfortune of being a half-orfan only child with a foolish, overprotective father) to Quidditch (Jimmy was an avid fan of the Flying Bullies, one of the most known and celebrated NQA's teams, and Ron was totally crazy for some British team called Chudley Cannons) to favourite foods, music and colour. For the first time since he was forced to leave America, Jimmy was actually having fun.

In the meantime there was a lot of comings and goings outside their compartment, about which they remained totally oblivious. A group of very chatty fourth-year Ravenclaw girls, who passed by animatedly talking about charming guys and very effective glamour spells. A bunch of little eleven-year-olds, noisily running down the corridor searching for the witch of the sweets' cart. A green, clammy toad, who'd probably escaped its owner and was now hopping freely and umperturbed across all the train. A group of three troublemakers, two red-headed identical boys and a dark-skinned, black-haired one, who had just exploded some magical fireworks a couple of carriages further and were currently escaping a little drapel of highly enraged Prefects.

Actually, Ron and Jimmy were aware of these particular passersby, since they decided to hide in their compartment, and so Jimmy had the greatest honour of being introduced to a third of the absurdely numerous amount of Ron's siblings.

The aforementioned toad had actually escaped its owner. Neville was desperately searching all the train for his little pet. Well, desperately was maybe too much... but concernedly for sure, he was quite affectionate to the little thing. For him dealing with animals was just so simpler than dealing with humans; his Trevor was his best, most sincere friend, he needed to retrieve it, it was a life or death matter.

Irony of destiny, in his research Neville happened to bump into a girl right in front of Ron's and Jimmy's compartment. They both fell on the ground and needed some seconds to recover and get back on their feet.

"You... you are..." the girl started to say amazed, her eyes nearly escaping her orbs as she stared fixedly at Neville's forehead.

"I lost my toad. Did you happen to see it?" he cut her out. He really didn't need her to finish the sentence.

"A toad? No..."

"Alright. Thank you."

Hermione kept staring at Neville as he moved away, then she finally recollected herself and, just like the tender-hearted, even if a bit haughty, girl she was, she decided to help him and started searching for the toad as well, starting from the compartment she was right in front of.

"Who brings a toad?! And who cares to search for it when it gets lost?!" exclaimed Ron rolling his eyes once Hermione had left their compartment in burning disappointment. Jimmy just chuckled at his new friend's outburst.

Finally, the train started to slow down and eventually came to a stop. Ron and Jimmy followed the stream of students out of the train and on to the platform. It was already dark by then, and the air was freezing. But at least the night was clear, the sky cloudless and speckled with stars.

Even if he would never admit it out loud, and certainly not in front of his father, Jimmy was starting to get excited. He was looking forward to finally get to the school and see with his own eyes that magnificent castle his father had been describing in detail and eulogizing so much in the last months.

Sure, everything would be different. But who ever said different necessarily meant worse?


	2. The sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: some features in this chapter are taken from _Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone - Chapter 7 - The Sorting Hat_
> 
> Anything you recognize is property of the fabolous J.K. Rowling. I don't own it.

All the first years were aligned in front of the authority table, sharing different degrees of nervousness.

Hermione was quite disappointed in learning that all they would have to do would be try on a hat and not have to prove themselves in some kind of very challenging intelligence or magical test. The idea scared her; she hated to think that, however the Sorting actually happened, she wouldn't have any direct control on something so important for her future.

Unlike Hermione, Ron found the idea of not having to pass a test conforting, even if only slightly. He had a family name to keep high, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the hell Fred and George would put him through if he was sorted anywhere but in Gryffindor.

Neville was, strangely enough, rather cool about the Sorting in itself. He was actually more focused on making sure he wouldn't lose Trevor again and more concerned by all the whispers of the kids that happened to be standing next to him. He so hated that fame he never asked for.

Jimmy was, more than anything else, annoyed. The list of first years seemed to go on forever, and every student seemed to take a lifetime to be sorted. He wondered why in Merlin's name had his surname to start with P. Had he been called Brooks, or Clarke, he would've already been sitting at his house's table, whichever it was.

"Longbottom, Neville."

Jimmy, who'd got distracted looking around the Hall and taking into the grandeur of the place, suddenly focused back on the three-legged stool and the chubby, sandy-haired boy making his way nervously towards it. Everyone was fixing the Boy-Who-Lived with curiosity and anticipation. Thousands of students whispered among each other, giving the unpleasant impression of an invasion of buzzing mosquitoes. Jimmy rolled his eyes. And so the famous Neville Longbottom was going to be sorted... Which was the big deal? He didn't even look like much...

The Hat stayed on Neville's head a good quarter of hour, if not more. Jimmy couldn't completely see Neville's expression, since the Hat had fell over his head till covering his eyes, but from the tight and straight line of his mouth he could guess that the boy wasn't enjoying whatever was going on between him and the Hat too much. Finally, the Hat screamed the last thing Jimmy, and probably the most of the Great Hall, judging from the astounded silence all around, expected. "SLYTHERIN!"

Professor McGonagall took the Hat off of Neville's head, as a tepid applause arose from the table under the green and silver banner. Neville sighed and gave a little longing look to the table on the opposite side of the Hall, before joining his new housemates.

Not long after another boy, a blond guy named Malfoy, joined the Slytherins. Unlike Neville Longbottom, though, the Hat took with him mere seconds before declaring where he belonged. And unlike Neville Longbottom, this boy didn't seemed displeased at all with the Hat's choice.

After Malfoy another couple of names were called and then, finally... "Portman, James."

The Hat was placed on Jimmy's head and it started talking. Well, probably talking wasn't the right word, since its voice seemed to exist directly into Jimmy's mind, but it was the closest definition he could think of. "Mmmm... Another difficult one to place... There are so many of you this year, are there not?"

"Please, not Slytherin..." Jimmy found himself thinking, and then felt guilty for having asked. That was exactly what his father had recommended him not to do.

"Not Slytherin, you say? You sure? You could do well there... You have enough talent to stand out, and Slytherin would help you becoming great..."

"But I don't want to be great," Jimmy protested. "I think that I could go just fine with average."

The Hat chuckled. _Do hats chuckle?_ Then he commented with undisguised irony. "Oh, really? That's strange to hear, coming from a Potter..."

"Potter?" Jimmy asked, perplexed. Clearly the Hat must've mistaken him for someone else. "My name is Portman. Jimmy Portman."

"So sure of yourself, of who you are, of what you are..."

Jimmy frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"And you still want to argue with me about where I should or shouldn't put you? Didn't your putative father's words teach you anything?"

"My _putative_..."

"When I sorted him, twenty years ago... I told him he would've done well in Slytherin. He begged me to put him in Gryffindor instead. Didn't work that well for him, nor for anyone else... did it?"

"What?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry... too many informations... Better if we got back to your sorting, don't you think? Well, lets see... proud... stubborn... surely not lacking in bravery... usually kind, just like your mother, even if you can be a bit rude sometime... well, she had quite a temper, and I suppose you took that from her, too... But you're more like your father, the same inconditionate loyalty towards his friends, the same foolishness and magnet for trouble... Maybe you're not that much of a Slytherin, after all... decidedly better GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted into applause, but Jimmy hardly heard them. He hardly realized that he'd just been sorted into the House he'd hoped. The Sorting Hat's words were still fluttering around his brain, too many and too confusing to process... What the hell did it all mean?

"Mr Portman," Professor McGonagall said, shaking him out of the trance. "You should join your housemates."

Concern and bewilderment filled her at the look of helplessness and pure terror that she saw in Jimmy's eyes.

"Mr Portman? Are you feeling al-" she started to ask, but never finished the sentence, because Jimmy suddenly snatched the Hat from her hands and forced it onto his head once again.

"What were you talking about?!" he yelled in his head. "What does it mean, my _putative_ father?! Why did you call me Potter?! How..."

"Hey, hey, here! Cool down, boy! I'm not your information source!"

"Yet you shared informations earlier! And I didn't even ask for them!!!"

"A mistake. Everyone can make mistakes, don't you think? Or you think that a Hat can't..."

"A hat shouldn't even talk!!!"

There was no reply. Jimmy felt a little stab of guilt when the thought crossed his mind that he might've offended the Hat. Then it spoke again, soothingly. "You should ask your questions to someone else."

Jimmy didn't need to ask what the Hat meant this time, he already knew perfectly. He had to talk to his father, but how could he trust him? How, when everything he'd told him in the last eleven years, when all of his life, had been nothing but a lie?

"He loves you," the Hat said. "You know he does. And Love is never a lie."

Jimmy felt tears prickle his eyes. He took off the Hat from his head and ran out of the Great Hall.

"Mr. Portman!" he heard McGonagall's voice crying after him, but he ignored it and locked himself in the first empty classroom he found on his way.

*

Seated on the ground, his arms clutched tightly around his knees, Jimmy cried until he had no more tears to cry. After some time, the door opened to reveal Ron's twin brothers. Fred and George, if he remembered straight.

"Well, Portman," one of the two said reproachfully. Jimmy had no idea which one, and he honestly couldn't care less. "Is it really that disappointing to be a Gryffindor?"

"It's not that!" he shrieked, loudly and aggressively, and another stream of tears flew out of his eyes.

The two brothers shared a concerned look, then one of them kneeled next to Jimmy, posing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey... Hey, Jimmy... Come on, it's okay!"

He shook his head.

"Are you going to tell us why you're upset, at least?" The other one asked.

"The Hat..." he muttered. "It said... I..."

"What? What did it say?"

"A lie! All my life is a lie!"

"Jimmy... What do you mean by-"

"The Hat said... that my father is not my father."

A long, awkward silence followed that. Then the twin who'd knelt beside Jimmy forced him to get up from the floor. "Come, little one. In moments like these, there's nothing better than a bellyfull of chocolate. If we hurry up, maybe we'll still be in time for the dessert!"


	3. A new friend

Jimmy's night was anything but restful. He kept twisting and turning in his bed, unable to banish from his mind all the questions crowding it. Who was he? Why did his father lie? How could he hide everything from him for all that time? What was he supposed to do, now? Pretend that nothing had happened? Confront his father, admitting that he could still call him that? And if he confronted him, how should he go for it? And what would happen next?

He eventually fell asleep at a certain point during the night. Not more that five minutes later (he was sure it couldn't have been any longer...) he woke up at the sound of someone shouting his name.

"Jimmy!" Ron exclaimed loudly. "Jimmy, wake up! We have to go to lesson!"

How was it that five minutes ago all that could be seen from outside was black as ink nothingness, and now the sun was a huge yellow ball shining high and brightly in a clear blue sky? Jimmy yawned and unwillingly straightened in his four poster bed. He really wished he could have simply slept the day off. Learning magic didn't seem so interesting in that moment.

Down in the Great Hall for breakfast, the loud chattering was giving Jimmy a headache. Ron had is mouth full to capacity, and his plate even fuller, but still managed to exchange excited previsions about the lessons with their roommates Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. Jimmy, whose closed stomach hadn't allowed him to swallow more than a couple of spoonfuls of porridge, didn't give any contribution to the conversation, aside a couple of "Mmmh" and "Yeah" and other monosillabic comments.

He was still lost in his own thoughts as he followed the other three to their first class, Charms. A bit of excitement came back to him at the prospect of the lesson, but it dissolved again after the first ten minutes. They weren't going to use their wands at all; apparently they first had to learn a lot of theory, before starting doing actual magic. Jimmy had never felt more disappointed in his life. Well, aside during his Sorting the night before, and when his father had told him that they would move to England, and that time when Jenny had gone to see the final of the American Quidditch Cup and hadn't told him anything, and a couple of other occasions... resigned, he dipped the quill into the inkwell and tried to imit the girl sitting next to him, the same who'd asked them about the toad on the train, who was filling sheets and sheets of parchment with a quantity of notes Jimmy was sure it wasn't humanly possible to take in such a short time.

Things didn't really improve as the day went by. Lesson after lesson they took notes, and then took notes, and then assisted to some display of magic from the teachers, and then took notes. When Jimmy finally sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner, all he felt was a sore hand and an even bigger annoyance than the morning.

"We took notes all the time," he complained with the Weasley twins, when they joined him and Ron to ask about their first day.

"Aww... Remember, Georgie, our first year?" Fred commented with mock endearment.

"When we were still young and innocent..." George went on in a dreamy, reminiscent tone.

"Oov n'er been innofent," Ron pointed out, his mouth so full of food that it was almost impossible to understand what he was saying.

"Ah, nonsense," George rebated, waving a hand dismissively in his little brother's direction. Then he turned to Jimmy and frowed, suddenly serious. "You okay?"

Jimmy knew what George meant, but didn't really know how to answer; he just shrugged. The twins didn't press the matter further and left the first-years to their dinner.

"Why did he ask you if you were okay?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Just something we discussed yesterday evening. Nothing important." Jimmy didn't feel ready to share the news with Ron. Actually, he wasn't ready to share it at all, he just wanted to forget about it.

*

The following day, Neville was making his way alone towards Defence Against the Dark Arts. His mood was far beyond awful; the other Slytherins loathed him and made no effort to hide it. You would've thought that they would at least show a little respect for one of their own housemates, but maybe it was partly his fault, since he hadn't made that big effort in hiding his disappointment about his sorting, either. And in all fairness, not everyone in his house loathed him... still, even the ones that didn't act openly hostile tended to ignore him so that they wouldn't get on certain people's bad side. And as for students from other houses... they either stared at him like he was some sideshow or blatantly avoided him too, because of his being a Slytherin. He'd hoped at Hogwarts things would be better... he had clearly been wrong.

He was so angry, he wasn't really looking where he was going, so he wasn't too surprised, even if quite annoyed, when someone literally ran into him, making him stagger a little and drop his schoolbag on the ground.

Jimmy had been on his way to Transfiguration with Ron when he'd lost him because he'd got distracted by the sight of a particularly beautiful tapestry. So, when he'd realized Ron wasn't with him anymore, he'd taken off a run to catch up. He hadn't seen at all the boy coming in the opposing direction.

"Watch your steps!" Neville exclaimed harshly to the stranger kid.

"I'm sorry..." was the timid reply.

Neville stared at the kid, as he knelt down to collect the books he'd dropped. He seemed familiar, even if Neville wasn't sure why. Then he remembered; this was the same Gryffindor boy who'd escaped the Great Hall after his sorting.

Jimmy handed back to the boy he'd run into his copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ , offering him a little apologetic smile. The smile died on his lips as he recognized the other boy. His jaw dropped in amazement as his glare fell on the lightining-bolt scar on his forehead.

"Thanks," Neville said, a bit coldly, not noticing the change in demeanor of the other boy, since he'd been avoiding his eyes.

"You're welcome," Jimmy mumbled awkwardly, shaking himself out of the trance. Then reached out his hand for Neville to shake. "I'm Jimmy, by the way. Jimmy Portman."

"Neville Longbottom," he replied, taking it.

"Yes, I know..."

Neville made a grimace. He hated the fact that everyone knew his name. He hated being famous, and what for? For being an orphan child with a stupid scar on his forehead?!

"Sorry... Didn't mean to be intrusive or anything..." Jimmy apologized.

Neville shrugged. "You weren't. It's not your fault if people think they know every-"

"Yeah... Well..." Jimmy interrupted awkwardly. "I really have to go, now... Transfiguration class in a couple of minutes..."

Neville stared at him for a few seconds, uncertain if he should be annoyed or not for the interruption. He decided he shouldn't. "Hurry up, then! McGonagall could kill you... I don't want you on my conscience."

Jimmy laughed and, for the first time since they'd met, Neville offered him a little smile on his own.

"Right. Then, see you around, Neville."

"See you, Jimmy."

*

Jimmy and Neville met again the following day, on their way out of the Great Hall after lunch.

"Hey, Neville!" Jimmy called, cheerfully.

"Hi," the other kid muttered, without that much enthusiasm.

"What's wrong?"

"Malfoy," he answered darkly, as the named blondie passed by them with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"What about him?"

"Don't really want to talk about it." Malfoy had spent the last two hours making evil comments about Neville's deceased parents and he didn't really want to go through it again. Jimmy had the sense to keep his curiosity at bay and not to press the matter; he didn't want to snoop.

Without really thinking about it, they started moving together towards their respective classes. Neville kept throwing Jimmy curious glances; he was sort of fascinated by the solitary Gryffindor boy with the weird American inflection who didn't seem to mind walking side by side with him. "Can I ask you something?" he told him at a certain point.

Jimmy looked at him a bit warily. "Um... I guess...?"

"Why did you run away like that after the Sorting?" Then he stopped in his steps for a moment and frowned. "Surely it wasn't because you were put in Gryffindor, was it? I've been put in Slytherin and didn't do anything of the sort."

"The Hat told me something about my family... Something my father should've told me instead..." Jimmy surprised himself answering. He hadn't touched the topic with anyone yet, apart with the twins on the first night. He'd thought about writing to Jennifer, but then he'd decided it would be pointless; she was on the other side of the ocean, what could she ever do to help?

"Such as?" Neville prompted, genuinely curious.

"Such as I've been adopted. Or at least, I think..."

"Sweet Merlin! No wonder you were shocked!"

Jimmy shrugged. Pretending not to care was so much simpler than actually brooding over it.

"And what about your real parents?"

"I don't know... I have no idea... From the little my father said, I've always believed my mother was killed during the war against Voldemort, but- What?" he asked, when he noticed that Neville was looking at him astounded.

"Nothing... It's just... You speak Voldemort's name?!"

"You just did yourself," Jimmy pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but... I never met anyone who did, too. Usually, when someone hear me speaking his name, they jump like I've just spat fire or something."

"Oh, it's not that big of a deal in the States. But I have to admit, Dad does get all jittery whenever I say the name. Never really got why, though. Why would anyone be scared of a name? It's silly."

"I agree. And frankly, I'm not going to hide behind stupid locutions such as _you-know-who_ when talking about my parents' murderer."

Jimmy just nodded at that, there wasn't much to say anyway. In the meantime, they'd reached the point from where they had to separate, Neville taking the stairs to the first floor, towards the Charms classroom, and Jimmy proceding straight, towards History of Magic. They quickly byed each other and went their own ways.

*

Finally Friday morning arrived, but just for a change it didn't start in the best of ways for Jimmy.

During breakfast his snowy owl, Hedwig, appeared with the other owls carrying a message for him. He had a feeling he knew whom it came from and didn't really want to read it; he opened it just the same.

_Dear Jimmy,_

_you haven't written yet... I honestly expected to receive news from you the very first night..._

_Did something go wrong, son? Are you having any trouble? Didn't the sorting go as you hoped? I'll tell you once again, any house is okay by me. So if that is the matter, don't worry about it for a second!_

_Please, write back soon. I'm worried for you. You won't keep your poor, old father on his toes this way, will you?_

_Really hope you're fine and you're enjoying yourself. Have you already made new friends? How are lessons? I want to know every single detail of your first week!_

_With love,_

_Dad._

"What was that?" Ron asked curiously, while Jimmy folded the letter and put it back into the envelope and then threw it into his bag. "Nothing. A letter from my father," he replied with an uncaring tone.

"Aren't you answering?"

The by then familiar annoyance started to grow inside Jimmy again. "Later, maybe." He stood and left, without waiting for Ron or anyone else.

First to reach the dungeons for Potions, he sat at one of the work tables in the second row, and started taking out his stuff that he supposed he'd need for the lesson. Some minutes later, he was joined by another student who'd come there on his own as well.

"Do you mind?" Neville asked, gesturing towards the spot next to Jimmy.

"Of course not," he answered, moving some of his books to make room for him. "But what would your housemates say?"

"I don't really care," Neville said, sitting down next to him. "Maybe you didn't notice, Jimmy, but I don't exactly get along with my housemates."

A little at a time, the other Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years arrived, and all of them seemed to avoid Jimmy and Neville, as they took their seats the furthest away possible from them. When Ron entered the classroom and saw Jimmy, he moved straight towards him, but he stopped when he noticed his company.

"Hey, Jimmy... Aren't you going to sit down there?" he asked, pointing to a free table near the one Seamus and Dean had occupied.

"You can sit here, Ron," Jimmy countered, smiling. "There's room for you too."

"Oh, well..." he mumbled awkwardly. "I think I'll go to sit with Dean and Seamus. See you later."

Neville dipped his quill in the ink and scribbled something on a piece of parchment, then handed it to Jimmy.

_I think your friends are scared by me._

Ten seconds later, the parchment was back to the sender, with a new line under the first.

_Course they are. Have you looked into a mirror recently?_

Neville chuckled. He was so glad to have met Jimmy, it was so nice to be around someone who didn't look at him either with pity, or with fan excitement, or, probably the most common reaction recently, with suspect and hostility. Jimmy treated him like a normal person. Even better, he treated him like a friend. He didn't care about his scar, didn't care about his house. He was the first Neville had met at Hogwarts who was actually trying to know his true self.

Jimmy snatched the parchment again as Professor Snape made his entrance a few moments later. Neville's eyes widened in fear as he read the new message, _Here's someone uglier than you!_

_You crazy? What if he reads this?_

_Calm down... It could refer to anyone... Besides, you survived Voldemort. Who else could scare the Boy Who Lived?_

Neville rolled his eyes. Then Snape started the call roll, and he concentrated on the teacher. Snape made a pause after calling Neville's name, but didn't make any comment, just gave him a look which seemed evaluating. Neville wondered if that was a good or a bad sign.

Unlike the other teachers, who'd introduced themselves and then started explaining things, Snape's approach seemed to be asking questions in bursts. _Strange way of teaching_ , Jimmy thought. What was the point in following the course if the teacher expected them to already know all the subject? He was totally clueless about the answers, as were all the other kids, judging from their blank expressions. The only exception was Hermione, or _the toad girl_ , as he'd got used to call her in his head. Her hand was getting higher and higher with every question. Only Snape didn't seem to notice.

_Do you reckon if she stretched a bit more, her arm will lenghten to touch the ceiling?_

Jimmy couldn't help but let a chuckle escape his lips at Neville's latest addiction to their parchment. Snape evidently heard, because he looked directly at him as he said, in a venomous voice, "Apparently, you aren't any better than the dunderheads I'm forced to teach to every year. Have any of you actually opened their books before coming to school?"

Jimmy raised his hand, under the astounded stare of Neville.

"Yes, Mr... Portman, is it? Do you perhaps know the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I honestly have no idea, Sir," he declared, totally relaxed. "But I'm quite sure Hermione does."

Jimmy thanked Merlin that _Severus Snape_ wasn't the solution to that crossword puzzle's definition, _it kills with looks_ , otherwise he would've been as good as dead, at the glare Snape threw him.

Everyone burst out laughing, even the Slytherins who usually wouldn't laugh at a Gryffindor's joke on principle. Everyone but Hermione, who threw him an hurt look (yet didn't lower her hand) and Neville, who sighed and shook his head, like he thought Jimmy was crazy.

Snape kept staring at Jimmy with hatred. The boy reminded him of someone, he just couldn't figure out who it was. Then it hit him... James Potter! The same cockiness, the same arrogance, the same sneering and supponent smile! He even had nearly the same name... James Portman... James Potter... And Longbottom... he was acting way too much like Lupin, the bloody monster! But Snape wasn't going to have it once again, he wasn't allowing this little scoundrel to harass him like his almost namesake did.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" he declared finally.

"What for?" Weasley asked, aggressively. Just like Black would've done... Were they going to become the new Marauders? If a Pettigrew's double was going to turn out in this class too, that would be the time Snape killed himself.

"For lack of respect," he answered coldly. "And you, stupid girl. Put that hand down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: some features are from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - Chapter 8 - The Potions Master_. Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's property, not mine.


	4. Chance meeting in Diagon Alley

He looked around, frightened, trying to figure out in which direction he should head. "Jimmy?" he called, and his voice ricocheted on the glass walls surrounding him.

No answer came.

A strong sense of unease filled him and Peter sprinted forward. He had no idea where he was or why he was there, the place weirdly reminded him of those labyrinths of mirrors one could find in a Muggle funfair. He remembered that time he'd taken Jimmy to one; in the blink of an eye he had lost sight of him and he'd spent the next couple of minutes looking for him frantically. That had been one of the longest and scariest couples of minutes in his life.

As the memory dissolved, a sudden realization hit him. Jimmy! His Jimmy was in danger! He had to find him, he had to find him immediately! He proceeded straight for a bit, he took a curve on the left, then one on the right. He reached a dead end and had to turn back again. Finally, he came in a rather large, circular room, the walls still covered in mirrors.

In the middle of the room stood a boy and a man, but Peter couldn't make out their features. "Jimmy?" he asked, uncertain.

The boy turned to look at him. He was thin, with black, uncombed hair and round spectacles; a miniature of James Potter, except for the eyes. He had Lily Evans' big, round, emerald-green eyes.

"That's not my name," he said, his voice steady and emotionless, despite the evident hurt and reproach in his expression.

"Harry..." Peter murmured slowly. His unsaid beg for forgiveness hanged in the air, almost a physical presence, taking up all the space between them. Then the man turned to face him too and Peter jolted at the sight. It was a face he'd tried so hard to eradicate from his memory: deadly pale skin, scarlet, snake-like eyes, cruel, joyless smile.

"Well, well, well, Pettigrew. So nice of you to join us. It's been quite a long time since we last met."

The Dark Lord... What was He doing here? How did He find them? How did He knew who Peter was?

And then Peter looked at his reflection in the mirrors surrouding him, and sure enough the man returning his glare wasn't Peter Portman. He was shorter and larger, his hair blonde instead of brown, his eyes blue instead of hazel. Something dark, like a bruise, was visible on his left arm, on the portion of skin his sleeve wasn't long enough to cover. Peter knew all too well what it was, a black tattoo with a skull and a serpent coming out from its mouth. The man in the mirror wore the mark of the Death Eaters. The man in the mirror was Peter Pettigrew.

"You've been quite a disappointment, Peter... Yes, I'm very, truly disappointed in you... And yet, I must thank you in the end. It would've been a terrible waste to kill this boy. He's such a valuable resource."

Peter saw the Dark Lord's skeletal fingers clutching Harry's shoulder and felt suddenly nauseous. Still, the sight brought out that little Gryffindor bravery he had buried inside him somewhere. "Stay away from him!" he cried, as loudly and as confidently as he managed.

"Oh! What's that, Wormtail? Don't tell me you have some backbone, after all?"

Peter's fear was at that point totally replaced by anger. "Let my son be!" he cried again, sounding a lot steadier and more authoritative than before.

"I'm not your son!" the boy yelled. "You've never told me anything but lies!"

Peter flinched at the boy's words. Voldemort smiled. "As you can see, Peter, Harry doesn't care about you anymore. You've been a foul to come back. A foul to keep everything from him. A deceived boy can do a lot of nasty things... I would've thought that you knew as much."

Peter lowered his gaze, ashamed. Obviously, he knew; he nearly killed his friends because he thought they didn't really love him, because he wanted revenge. Now, ten years later, he would've done anything to simply be able to turn back time and undo all the damage he'd done.

"By the way... Maybe you'd like to know what the boy's first task will be?"

Peter lifted his glare on his previous Master's face, who was still looking at him with cold amusement, and somehow he instantly understood. "You can't! You can't make him do that!"

"I can't? And why would it be?"

"They are his parents! His family!"

"He doesn't have a family, Peter. Not anymore. And that's because of you."

"Please!" Peter cried, throwing himself on his knees. "Please, don't ask that of him! Take it on me! Do of me whatever you want! But let him be!"

"Oh, I'm going to deal with you, Wormtail, don't fear," He said slowly, turning His wand lazily around His fingers.

Peter knew what was going to come. He closed his eyes, waiting for the two words which would cut his life. Only, it wasn't Voldemort's hissing voice that spoke them.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry's acute voice cried.

*

Peter woke up suddenly. His forehead was sweaty, but something else was wetting his face. It took some moments for him to realize that he was crying.

He got off of bed and threw the window open, secretly hoping to see a white owl flying towards it, but obviously there were no owls in sight.

Why hadn't Jimmy written yet? It couldn't be that he was hurt or something, otherwise Dumbledore would've informed him. It couldn't be that he'd forgot, overwhelmed by the school's routine, either; not after the letter he'd written to him last week. The only possible reason he could imagine for Jimmy not having written back was that he was angry at him, and the only possible reason he could imagine for Jimmy being angry at him was that he'd somehow discovered the truth, or part of it. But how could it have happened?

_You've been a foul to come back._

The words the Dark Lord, or more likely his subconscious, had spoken in the dream suddenly came to his mind. Had it been a mistake to come back to England? He was safe in the States, he and Jimmy both. No one knew them, no one could discover the truth. What was he thinking?

*

The following day, Peter had an appointment with a realtor to see an apartment in Diagon Alley.

He'd rented a small one bedroom apartment in Muggle London once he and Jimmy had moved back from the States, but it was meant to be only a temporary accomodation. Peter wanted for Jimmy to have his own bedroom once he got home for the Christmas holidays; his son needed his space, he was too old to sleep in his father's bed and he couldn't sleep on a sofa forever.

While he was on his way, two men crossed him, going in the opposite direction. They were talking to each other in muffled voices and didn't give him as much as a look, but he froze in place as he recognized them.

James and Sirius. Out of all the people he could meet, right his old friends.

For a moment, he just stood there, unable to stop staring at the two as they moved away from him. He was relieved that they hadn't recognized him, that they hadn't noticed him at all; he knew that the wisest thing to do would be banish them from his mind and keep going his way. He couldn't just forget about them, though; the curiosity was too strong.

*

The little rat hid behind a wooden column in the pub, not far away from the table where the two men were sitting.

"Thanks, Tom," Sirius said, as the bartender left two butterbeers in front of them.

"You're welcome." Tom bowed at them quickly, then left to attend to his other customers.

"Cheers," Sirius said, slamming his mug against James' one. James just took it and drank a gulp, his expression sore.

"Come on, mate! Cheer up!" Sirius exclaimed, with a point of annoyment. "Smile! You know, that thing you do when you curve your lips upwards..."

"We shouldn't drink on service, you know?" James interrupted coldly.

_What?_ Since when did James care about rules? Who was that and what had he done to James Potter?

"Butterbeers hardly count," Sirius retorted. "Had it been Firewhisky, I would've agreed with you..."

James shrugged.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you, mate? Are you going to tell me?"

"It's just... Whoever did it used dark magic. Very powerful and very dark magic. I know you've been thinking the same I have."

_Whoever did what?_

"It can't be him, Prongs! He's gone! Dead!"

"Is he, Padfoot?" James asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Honestly... If it was him... Wouldn't he have anything better to do than rob a bank?"

"We don't know what it was he was trying to steal."

"Whatever it was, this is not his style. His style is exterminate everything alive within a kilometer."

"That's some of his followers' style, not his. His style is acting in shadow and leave the dirty work to others. It nearly seems that you have forgotten!"

"I can assure you that I haven't," Sirius answered darkly. "Anyway, is there a reason in particular you're being that catastrophic?"

James sighed, staring into his half full ( _or half empty?_ Peter couldn't help but wonder) mug of Butterbeer. "I can't stop thinking about... those voices..."

"Which voices?" Sirius questioned, voicing Peter's wonder as well.

As answer, James lifted his eyebrows, in his typical _Honestly, Padfoot?_ expression. Sirius gave him his equally typical _Honestly, Prongs?_ eyeroll. It was kind of a relief to Peter that some things were still the same.

"What?!" James asked, offended.

"You can't seriously believe it, now can you?"

"I never said I believe it. It's just that I can't stop thinking about..." He paused, and purposefully diverted his glare from his best friend. "...Harry."

"Prongs..." Sirius started carefully. "I know that it's hard... But I honestly thought you had resigned after all this time..."

"How can you expect me to resign, Sirius?! He's my son!" he screamed angrily. Then sighed again. "Sorry, Pads... If I knew, at least, that he's fine..."

"He is. I'm sure he is. Peter won't make him lack anything."

James sent Sirius a murderous glare. “Well, it's true,” the other man murmured sheepishly.

"So you think I should trust him?! After what he'd done?!"

An ashamed squeak escaped from Peter. He could hardly stand the pain and hatred in James' words.

"Listen, Prongs. I hate Peter just as much as you do. But still, he did it to save him. To save us all. He was trying to remedy his mistakes."

"He shouldn't have gone to Voldemort to begin with!"

"Course he shouldn't! But he did! And at that point, there wasn't much more he could do to set things right."

"Set things right?!"

"As right as possible," Sirius amended.

How was it that Sirius was the one who was taking his defenses? He'd never been the sympathetic type.

"You might be right... I still think he wouldn't make it to Azkaban alive if I were the first to find him."

Sirius gave him a skeptical look. "Hell will freeze before you actually kill someone in cold blood."

"You're not helping."

"I know... I'm sorry..."

"He could've at least given some news. Sent a picture, or something."

"And risk to be caught? Or to reveal the boy's identity? I suppose they both would have different looks, if he's smart enough. And he is smart enough. Only, we never realized."

For a bit, none of them spoke. From his hiding point, Peter studied their thoughtful expressions, wishing nothing better than to run to them and hug them and beg them to forgive him. But he couldn't do anything of the sort; apparently, a life sentence to Azkaban was already on his head if he got caught. What would be of Jimmy then?

"By the way, how's my goddaughter?"

Goddaughter? Had James had another child in the meantime? Did that mean his Jimmy had a sister?

James couldn't help the little, proud smile that the thought of his daughter brought to his lips. "Dor's fine."

Peter realised that it was the first smile he saw him produce for all the time he'd been spying on them. A spy... Still the only thing he was truly good at... Once again guilt and shame overwhelmed him.

"Better get going. Scrimgeour would expect a full report."

Sirius nodded and, after a quick goodbye to Tom, they Disapparated. Peter stayed were he was, still in his Animagus form, mulling over the conversation he'd overheard and all his worries for the kid he loved like his own.


	5. Brooms and troubles

Jimmy wasn't sure of a lot of things recently, but of one he was certain: there was nothing messier and more stressful in the world than befriending Neville Longbottom.

First of all, the poor guy had a so low self-esteem it was unnerving. Jimmy knew that when he was at ease and didn't really think about it, he could do with magic pretty much anything. He was actually very powerful, maybe too much... he was even a little scary. Only, he was so convinced that he was good for nothing, that he actually turned out to be totally clumsy and incapable of performing even the simplest charms, which made of him a laughing stock for all the school and of Jimmy his full-time defender.

How on earth had the Sorting Hat decided to put him in Slytherin was behind Jimmy. Neville could've done a wonderful Hufflepuff, or maybe even a good Rawenclaw. Jimmy couldn't really see him as a Gryffindor, bravery definitely wasn't his greatest virtue, but even that would've suited him better. He had nothing of Slytherin. Confidence, when not arrogance, was requirement number one for Slytherins, and that was exactly what Neville lacked most. The only thing that was Slytherin in him was his blood status, and even that only partially, since he was so obviously what they would call a blood-traitor.

His House was exactly the other factor that made their friendship so difficult; Jimmy's housemates didn't want Neville around and had made themselves quite clear about it. Jimmy had tried hundreds of times to talk some sense into Ron, but there was no way to change his mind. In the end, Jimmy had resolved to spend even days with Ron and the other Gryffindors, and odd days with Neville.

That day was odd.

Jimmy and Neville were studying Herbology together. It was the only subject in which Neville had better marks.

"Why would anyone want to cultivate Fanged Daisies?!?"

"Their dried petals are used in a lot of potions," Neville pointed out, pretending not to have noticed the complaining intent in his friend's words.

"Whatever." Jimmy shrugged, as he went on scribbling down random facts about the damned flowers in his essay.

"Well, I'm done!" Neville declared, satisfied, putting down his quill, which earned him a dark look from the other boy.

For a bit, Jimmy went on working on the essay, while Neville simply stared at him. It was terribly annoying, and Jimmy really found it difficult to concentrate on the homework with Neville's eyes piercing through him, but there was little he could do about it.

"Jimmy..." he heard him calling after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Do you fly?"

"What?" Jimmy asked, puzzled.

"I mean... Are you able to ride a broom? Dunno if you've seen the notice... We'll start flying classes next week, and I've been wondering..."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "What's the matter? Surely you've ridden a broom before."

"No, I haven't. Granma never let me touch a broomstick. Always said that I was going to hurt myself. Break my neck or something."

"Flying isn't difficult at all!" Jimmy exclaimed, unable to avoid a point of frustration in his tone. "You'll do wonderfully!"

Jimmy was truly convinced that flying was easy. It had always come just natural to him. But thinking about it, maybe it wasn't that way for everyone... His father, for instance, hated brooms; always said that it was much more secure to have both feet firmly grounded. But he suffered from vertigo, so it hardly count.

"I'm not so sure... And I suffer from vertigo..."

Jimmy rolled his eyes again.

*

When they left the Library, half an hour later, Neville appeared to still be lost in his own thoughts, which was making Jimmy uncomfortable; he didn't want to deal with his friend's panic attacks, so he preferred to just keep the silence. It was Neville who broke it, and the subject he brought up wasn't one Jimmy enjoyed any better. "Have you written to your dad already?"

Another aspect Jimmy hated of his friendship with Neville: he always managed to make him feel guilty.

"No, I haven't," he rebated coldly, even a little harshly. His dad had been writing to him practically on a daily basis recently, but Jimmy had ignored his letters; he was still angry, and didn't really know what to tell him anyway.

"You'd better stop acting like such a prat! He's still your father, even if not by blood! There are people who don't have the luck of having parents, you know?"

And here came the reproach. Always the same old story. Poor little orphan Neville Longbottom wouldn't stay angry at his father... poor little orphan Neville Longbottom knew better than to hold a grudge against someone who lied to him for his entire life... "Why do you even care?!"

"I care because you are my friend! You'll never know your story if you don't ask him. You'll never learn why he hid the truth from you if you don't give him the chance to explain. I'm sure he has a good explanation. Probably he just wanted to protect you."

"Protect me from what? And anyway, he should've told me! He still can tell me, without me having to ask! If he really cared, he would've done it by now! All these letters he sends me, and he keeps pretending that nothing has happened!"

"He doesn't know what happened, which is why he's writing all those letters."

"He should've figured it out!"

"Maybe he hasn't. Ot maybe it is a delicate subject and he doesn't want to address it by letter. Either way, you should write back."

"I won't, thank you very much."

"Alright, then... Do as you please." And Neville marched away, arms crossed and nose up, as if Jimmy had just personally offended him.

*

The first flying lesson eventually arrived. Gryffindors and Slytherins were matched for the class, which didn't exactly please either group. Neville was probaly the only one who was happy about it, because it meant Jimmy would be there, even if he was still a bit pissed at him for the whole not-writing-back-to-his-father affair.

Neville's presence was just one more reason for Jimmy to hate the idea of sharing the class with the snakes; apart from still being a bit pissed at him for the whole you-should-write-back-to-your-father affair, he feared that Neville would panic and break his neck, or worse, that Malfoy would start teasing him and then Jimmy would have to waste hours to cheer Neville up.

"On my whistle," Madam Hooch said, once the kids were all astride their brooms and with the correct grip on them. She started counting down, but Neville pushed off before she reached the one.

"Neville!" Jimmy shrieked, alarmed, while the other kid kept raising upper and upper in the sky, without any control over his broom. Jimmy was going to take off after him, but he didn't make it in time; before he could do anything, Neville slipped from the broom and fell with a loud thud onto the ground.

*

"Tell me that again?" Ron said, for what must've been the millionth time.

"Ron, seriously! Stop it!"

"You're going to be the Gryffindor Seeker? You're really going to be-"

"Yeah! I already told you!"

"But I thought first-years weren't allowed-"

"Apparently even McGonagall doesn't care for rules that much, when it comes to Quidditch..."

Jimmy was actually astounded by how everything had turned out. When McGonagall had surprised him up in the sky and commanded him with her terrifying stern frown to follow her, he'd really believed that he would be kicked out. Once again, he wondered what his father would've said if he'd actually been expelled. Well, he should've been content that Jimmy hadn't _got into trouble within the first week_. He hadn't been expelled, though, so there was no reason to worry about it. And anyway, why should he care about whatever his father would think?

"But-" Ron started, cutting off Jimmy's train of thought.

"Ron!" Jimmy complained, exasperated.

"You'll have to thank Longbottom, after all... And even Malfoy, for all that matters..."

"I'll be dead before I thank Malfoy for anything!"

"Speak of the Devil..." Ron muttered, lowering his voice. Jimmy turned and, sure enough, Malfoy was there, with his two usual henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle.

"So, Portman, having your last meal?" he asked evilly.

Had he been in a better mood, Jimmy would've come back with some witty retort. But he was so anguished about Neville, so pissed at Ron and his questions, so angry at his father, that he didn't have the energy to deal with Malfoy too.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" he muttered, and turned his back on him.

"Not very kind of you, Portman... You ought to learn some respect..."

"Respect? For who, exactly? You?" Jimmy asked, turning to Malfoy again, his eyebrows raised in a disbelieving expression. Malfoy's face heated up in anger. "I'll make you regret this, you have my word!"

"Anytime."

"Is it a challenge?"

"Course it is."

"Very well, then. Tonight. At midnight. Trophy room."

"I'll be there."

Malfoy nodded and left. Ron gave Jimmy an astounded look. Jimmy noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was glaring at him, too, reproachfully.

"What?" he asked his friend, annoyed.

"You just challenged Malfoy to a duel? You crazy?"

"So what? He asked for it!"

"First, you disobey a teacher to get back some stupid contraption of Longbottom's, then you challenge Malfoy to a duel. You should stop seeking troubles like that for the Slytherins! If you go on like this, you'll get yourself expelled... Or killed!"

Probably Ron was right in saying that he shouldn't have taken up Malfoy's provocation, but Jimmy wasn't going to admit it (not in front of Ron, anyway...) He just shrugged and went on eating his dinner.

*

Neville liked the Slytherin Common Room. The soft greenish light, the elegant black leather chairs, the muffled lapping of the Black Lake's waters against the window, the crackling fire... It all gave him an odd but pleasant sense of serenity. He twisted his wrist to shake off the awkward feeling he still had despite Madam Pomfrey fixing his fracture in a heartbeat, then turned another page of the book he was entertaining himself with. It was some crazy story about a group of kids driven into another world passing through a wardrobe. Neville liked to read Muggle fiction, especially fantasy novels; he always found their total distorted view of magic highly entertaining.

"What are you reading?"

He shut the book closed and lifted his glare on the questioning face of Samantha Rosier, a little girl with auburn hair tied up in two pigtails and wide cobalt eyes which gave her a sort of eerie and a bit crazy look.

"Nothing," Neville replied dismissively, hoping she would just leave him alone.

She didn't. She squeezed herself next to him on his chair, practically sitting on his lap, and kept staring at him with that same questioning look.

"What?" he asked defensively, trying to retreat into the back of the chair to move away from her.

"You are a strange boy, Neville Longbottom," she declared, with no hint of emotion. _He_ was strange? What about _her_?

Malfoy chose that moment to show up, flanked by another of their classmates, a black boy named Blaise Zabini.

"Hey, Longbottom," he started, in his typical mocking tone and wicked grin. "So, how was flying? I really hope you enjoyed the top view!" Some people laughed, but most simply kept minding their own business.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Samantha intervened, rolling her eyes. Neville wasn't sure if he should've felt grateful or annoyed at her.

"Go back playing with dolls, Rosier, and stop snooping in what doesn't concern you."

She crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest and gave him a glacial stare. Neville was impressed despite himself seeing that Malfoy didn't even flinch.

"You didn't look that bold when Portman nearly threw you off your broom," she commented sarcastically.

Neville expected a blast of anger, instead Malfoy managed to surprise him once again, as he burst into a mocking laugh. "What's so funny?" he asked, with just a point of worry.

"Imagining your friend Portman's expression when he'll be on the train heading back home tomorrow."

"What are you talking about?" Neville asked, getting on his feet suddenly, a sense of panic rising into him. But Malfoy didn't answer, he simply took the stairs towards the dormitories, still laughing, with Zabini at his heels.

Neville turned to look at Samantha, who just shrugged before moving over to her roommates Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bullstrode. He kept staring at her for a while, trying to process everything, before running off after Malfoy.

"Do you really think he'll be that stupid?" he heard Zabini ask from behind their dormitory's door.

"Of course he will. Wish I could be there to see his face when he'll find Filch waiting for him!" Malfoy's voice answered with malice.

_Oh, Merlin, Jimmy! What have you done?!_

Neville ran down to the Common Room once again and left in a hurry, only vaguely aware of Samantha Rosier's voice calling after him, "Longbottom! Where are you going?" He took the stairs which led up to the Entrance Hall and then another flight that he was quite sure he'd seen Jimmy take to head towards the Gryffindor Common Room. A lot of running through corridors and up and down staircases later, he had to resign to the fact that he'd got hopelessly lost.

He looked around, slightly panicked. The corridor he was standing in was dusty and silent, it had the air of not having been crossed in a long time. It was so creepy, something about it got him goosebumps. Then Neville heard footsteps approaching and he sought shelter behind the first door he could find; the last thing he needed was for a Professor catching him out of bed after curfew.

*

"I swear that if I'll get expelled because of you..." Hermione was muttering angrily as she followed Ron and Jimmy on their way towards the Trophy Room.

"No one asked you to come, Granger," Ron rebated coldly.

"Exactly," Jimmy chimed in. "And if you don't want to be expelled, you should shut up. You'll get us caught."

"Aaargh!!!"

The three kids all stopped in their steps, terrified.

"It-it came from down there..." Hermione said, her voice soft and trembling, pointing with her arm towards a deserted corridor on their left.

"Let's go see what's happening," Jimmy intervened resolute.

"But Jimmy..."

"Someone could be in trouble, Ron! We have to check!" And all three of them moved in the direction of the scream.

*

Neville stared with terror in front of him at the huge, teeth-gritted, evil-looking, three-headed dog which gave all the impression of considering him an appetizing snack. He pressed himself against the door, his eyes wide with panic, as the three mouths growled deeply and menacingly. Then, all of a sudden, the door opened itself behind him and a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him out; he turned to his saviour, breathing hard, and then anger filled him as he recognized the boy in front of him.

"James Portman! You idiot!" he shouted, and punched him hard on the top of his head.

Jimmy took a step back, massaging the spot where he'd just been hit and looking at Neville like he was crazy. "Nev! What the hell?!"

Neville was still shaking, if out of anger or of fright he wasn't sure himself. "Did you really believe whatever Malfoy told you?!? I searched all the bloody castle looking for you! And I nearly got eaten by some crazy monster inside there! All because you are a bloody fool!!!"

"What are you talking about?"

Neville rolled his eyes. Jimmy couldn't really be that thick... Well, maybe it was a Gryffindor thing, be true to their word and all that nonsense... But Malfoy was a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. And on this matter, Neville could understand Malfoy's reasoning better than Jimmy's. Maybe he did belong in Slytherin, after all...

"I mean," he said, with the tone of voice someone would use while lecturing a particularly slow and stubborn child, "that Malfoy set a trap for you. I heard him earlier laughing about it with Zabini, he said you would be stupid enough to go wherever you were supposed to be going and that you would find Filch there waiting for you!"

"Slimy git!" Ron muttered. Hermione huffed. Jimmy imagined she was dying to say _I told you so_!

"Let's go away from here!" Jimmy said to them all. He led them away from the abandoned corridor and the door behind which the monstrous dog had its residence. Once they were far off enough, Jimmy turned to Neville again.

"Let me get it straight... Malfoy never meant to come to the appointment? And he told Filch we would go to the Trophy Room to get us expelled?"

"Of course he did!" Hermione answered before Neville could. "How could you expect..."

"And you came all the way to alert us?" Ron asked disbelievingly, interrupting her.

Neville nodded and, strangely enough, Ron smiled. "Thanks." He knew he'd been unfair towards Neville for all that time and even if he would never admit it, he'd been truly scared that afternoon, when Neville fell down his broomstick. He was truly ashamed for his demeanor towards the boy, especially now that he'd risked so much only to warn them... Well, he probably did it more for Jimmy than for anyone else, but still...

"You're welcome," Neville said, returning the smile slightly. Maybe there was a possibility for those two to become friends, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some features in this chapter are taken from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter 9 - The Midnight Duel_ , by J. K. Rowling. I don't own anything you recognize from there. That's all her property.
> 
> I also don't own _The Chronicles of Narnia: the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ , by C. S. Lewis (the Muggle novel Neville was reading).


	6. A new neighbour

_Dear Jimmy_ , Peter started to write, then realized that he had no idea how to go on. He'd stayed so long with the quill planted on the parchment, that a large black stain of ink formed on the sheet. He hastily crumpled it and threw it into the bin.

What use was there to write another letter to his son, if he hadn't answered the last twenty-six ones? What was wrong with him, anyway? What had Peter ever done to him to deserve such a treatment?

_Well... You kidnapped him and took him away from his real family..._ a voice in his head answered. Once again, that day in Diagon Alley and that conversation he'd overheard between James and Sirius came to his mind. Damned James Potter and Sirius Black! Not only they'd upset him more than he was willing to admit; because of them he'd also missed his appointment for the house! Even after all that time, even without acknowledging his existence at all, they still managed to cause him trouble!

All those thoughts reminded him that he still needed to find a house; he took that day's copy of the Prophet, moving on to the announcement page, in the hope to find some interesting occasion. It was filled with all sort of foolishness: a witch who sold her collection of all Celestina Warbeck's LPs, a wizard who offered himself as a dragon-sitter, Zonko's searching testers for a new line of trick sweets... then, finally... _Charming Houses – Your Dream Home just a couple of fireplaces away._

Peter scanned the various adds for sale till one caught his eye.

_Lovely two-storey cottage in the West Country. 60 mq, finely furnished, mostly wizarding neighbourhood, blah blah blah..._

It sounded interesting... Well, not the announcement in itself, it was actually quite boring... but the pictures looked beautiful, and the house was exactly what Peter was looking for. If only the price would be affordable...

_200.000 galleons negotiable._

Not bad at all. He could manage. Finally he looked at the address.

_143 Church Lane, Godric's Hollow_

Godric's Hollow?! Was that some kind of a silly joke?! There was no way he would move anywhere near James, absolutely no way! Yet, he couldn't find a better house if he searched for a hundred years... Was that a sign of destiny?

_You've been a foul to come back._

No. He hadn't been a foul. And he was going to buy that house, no matter what. It would also be a way to partly amend the evil he'd done. Getting Harry and James to meet each other. Sure, they wouldn't know the truth... He would never let them learn the truth... But they would get to know each other anyway!

_If you're interested or you would like to receive any more infos, owl us or come to meet us at our headquarters in Diagon Alley – London._

Peter took another sheet of parchment, dipped the quill in the ink once again, and began writing. _Dear Sirs,_

*

"Dorea! Stop!" Lily screamed to her daughter, who was zigzagging all around the house on the toy broomstick her godfather Sirius had bought her for her last birthday.

"Look, Mum! Look what I'm able to do!" she exclaimed excitedly, and made a loop the loop and nearly crashed onto the floor.

_I'm going to kill Sirius!_ Lily thought, her heart still beating at double speed for the scare. "I... Said... STOP!" she screamed again, and Dorea finally landed, laughing delightedly.

"Never, and I'll say it again, _never_ , do something like that again!"

"But Mummy..."

Lily didn't have the chance to reply, because right then she heard the shot-like sound of someone Apparating, and immediately after the ring of their doorbell.

Curious, she went to open to the door, and found herself facing a tall, thin man in his thirties, with curly, light brown hair and almond-shaped hazel eyes.

"Good morning, Ms..." Peter began, then paused, pretending to read the surname on the plate on the door, while he perfectly knew the woman in front of him. "...Potter."

"Good morning..." she answered warily. She wasn't used to perfect strangers simply coming by and ringing at her door and with everything she'd been through, she didn't exactly like the idea, either.

"Oh, sorry... What about my manners..." said Peter, with an apologetic half-laugh. "I'm Peter Portman. Nice to meet you."

She shook his hand, although she still didn't trust him. Who was he? What did he want?

"I've been wondering if I could use your help... I have an appointment to see a house for sale, but I'm afraid I got lost... I can't find the address..."

"Oh..." Lily said, finally relaxing. "Sure, I can help you. Which is the address?"

"143 Church Lane."

"You're lucky, then! This is Church Lane. We are at the 88. The 143 is down there, I think... I could accompany you, if you please."

"That would be great!"

Dorea chose that moment to appear beside her mother, clutching her leg and eyeing the strange man with the typical children-like timid curiosity. She had the same dark red hair of her mother, she actually resembled Lily in an astounding way. Except for the eyes. They were totally James'.

"This is your daughter, I suppose! She's lovely... Hi, little one. What's your name?"

Dorea hid her face into her mother's leg, while Lily rolled her eyes. "What's this shyness, all of a sudden? You're never shy, Dor! Say hello to this man, don't be ill-mannered!"

Dorea said nothing at all and Lily started trying to apologize, but Peter cut her down. "How old is she?"

"Nine," Lily answered.

Nine? That meant she was born only a year after he took Harry? How could they've had another child so soon? "Nine? Wow! You're already a lady, then." He smiled to the child. She finally let go of her mother's leg and smiled back.  
"I have a son who's nearly your age, you know? Just a couple of years older. Maybe you could become friends... Would you like it?"

"Yes, Sir," Dorea answered, nodding her head.

"Good. Then I'll introduce him to you, once he comes back from school."

Dorea clapped her hands happily and Lily rolled her eyes again. "Shall we go, Mr. Portman?"

"I'd love it, Ms. Potter."

*

That evening, after dinner, James was in the kitchen, helping Lily with the dishes. Or better said, he leaned beside the sink, admiring her while she do the cleaning up.

“You could do something, instead of just standing there, you know?” she noticed, with just a point of annoyance.

“Why? You are doing such a wonderful job on your own,” he replied contently.

She rolled her eyes but didn't insist, there was no point. "So, how was work?" she asked, and her tone turned slightly concerned. She didn't like the dark bruises around her husband's eyes.

"Tiring..." he answered, and put in a huge yawn, as if to emphasize it. "I could sleep for an entire week."

"You should sleep more during the night!" she pointed out, with a little reproach in her voice.

"Yes... Maybe you're right..." he conceded with a little sigh.

"What's going on, anyway? Can't still be that robbery at the Gringott..."

"Was it just that... There are rumours about... Well... Pettigrew."

"Peter Pettigrew? Which rumours? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't want to upset you! Anyway, there's nothing concrete about it. Probably is just the usual exhibitionist who's giving out false leads. Wouldn't be the first time..."

"But you don't think so." It wasn't a question, she could just tell. After almost thirteen years of marriage she knew him well enough.

He shrugged.

"I don't know... Probably I'm giving too much thought to this... It's just that, well... It's Peter!"

She opened her mouth to reply, but he interrupted her before she could.

"I think I've done some progress with the Gringott's case, though."

"Really?" She asked, surprised. "There weren't any news in the Prophet."

"Of course there weren't. Everything is still under investigation secrecy."

She looked at him skeptically and he gave her a sheepish smile.

"Anyway... Some people said Hagrid was at the bank the day of the robbery..."

"You aren't going to say that you suspect Hagrid?!?"

"Don't be silly, Lils! Just let me finish, alright? I found it odd that Hagrid was there. I imagined he was there on behalf of Dumbledore. And it was too much of a coincidence that Dumbledore sent Hagrid to Gringott's right the day the bank was robbed."

"You mean you think Dumbledore expected it to happen?"

"He might... Anyway, I went to see Hagrid this afternoon. A little trip to the Three Broomsticks, a couple of glasses of firewhiskey..."

"You are a git!"

James ignored her as he went on.

"And he told me how great a man Dumbledore was, and how much he trusted him, enough to give him the task to withdraw for him the Philosopher's Stone, which is currently safely hidden in the school."

"The Philosopher's... You're kidding!"

"Wish I were... This fits perfectly with my suspicions. And I was so willing to be wrong."

"Anyone could want a stone which can make you the richest and longest-lived person on earth."

"Anyone could want it, but not anyone would try to steal it."

Part of Lily agreed with James, but she didn't want to think about it. Not right now. They've worked so hard in the last ten years to gain a serene life. She wasn't going to accept anything that could menace it.

"And what about your day, sweetheart?" James said, trying to sound cheerful.

It didn't have the desired effect, but Lily appreciated the attempt. She smiled.

"Nothing as exciting as yours, surely. Your daughter nearly killed herself and demolished the house with that stupid broom your damned best friend gave her."

James laughed. Lily gave him a dark look.

"I wonder whom she took from... Oh, and a strange man came here this afternoon."

"A strange man?" He asked alarmed. "Which strange man?"

"Don't worry! He seemed nice enough. Portman, I think the name was... He had an appointment to see that house for sale down the street..."

"The one where the Dumbledores lived? _That_ house? I believed no one wanted it because they all think it's cursed or something."

"I doubt he knew... He's a foreigner... Said he just moved here from the States... Although he didn't have that much of an accent... Anyway, we're going to have a new neighbour soon. Should be fun!"

_Oh, yeah, great fun!_ James thought sarcastically, but nodded. Who could tell, maybe it would be fun after all.


	7. The golden quartet

Things definitely improved after the little midnight avdenture. Ron seemed to have finally buried the hatchet and he and Neville were sort of getting along, of which Jimmy was glad. Also Seamus and Dean didn't seem to have anything against the Slytherin bloke, now that Ron had started tolerating him. Actually, the two of them kind of did group on their own and didn't spend that much free time with their other two roommates in any case. The only person who was still giving Jimmy trouble (apart from his father who'd suddenly stopped trying to contact him, Malfoy and his gang who kept bullying around like the overbearing gits they were, and Professor Snape who seemed to have developed a particular hate towards him) was Hermione.

Jimmy thought that she was stalking them. She seemed to always be around, anytime he and his friends were doing anything that was even slightly not regular. Whenever he would look at her, even if only by chance, she would be glaring at him with suspect and hatred. The fact that Ron didn't miss any chance to have a dig at her didn't make matters any better.

It was Halloween morning, and all around the castle there was a festive air. As usual, Jimmy was sitting next to Ron at breakfast, and as usual Ron was filling his plate with a quantity of food Jimmy wouldn't have been able to eat in a week. All of a sudden, someone squeezed himself between the two.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Good morning to you too, Weasley," Neville said, giving in the meantime a disgusted look to the mountain of Pumpkin Pasties in his plate.

"You're supposed to sit down there." Ron pointed with his fork to the Slytherin table.

"But I want to sit here. There's no rule against it, is there?"

"No, there isn't," Hermione said, with a tone that clearly suggested she would've loved it otherwise.

"Did someone ask you, Granger?"

The girl sent Ron a hateful glare before standing up quickly and leaving the Hall. Jimmy sighed as he observed her marching away. "Couldn't you be a little nicer to her, Ron?" he asked reproachfully.

"No, I can't," Ron said, pouting. A slight tension grew between them, and Neville shifted his look from one boy to the other a couple of times before talking again. "Well, anyway... I've been thinking-"

"You think too much, Nev," Jimmy interrupted annoyed.

"Shut up, Jim, and listen, alright? I've been thinking about the dog..."

"For Merlin's pants, Longbottom! Not this again! Who cares what that thing is there for? It's becoming an obsession!"

"I thought we agreed that it is there to guard something." That had been Hermione's deduction, of course. She'd suggested it after she'd heard Neville complaining about the dog's presence in the school for the hundredth time; Neville had determined that it made too much sense to not be true and he'd made it his life mission to discover what the misterious hidden object was.

"I agreed to nothing. And even if I did, it's not our concern. We don't know what it is that it's guarding, anyway."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. He knew that Ron was as curious as Neville about the whole thing and that he was just trying to contradict him for the sake of it. Neville did his best to ignore Ron's attitude as he spread that day's copy of the Prophet before them. "Maybe we do," he commented, almost satisfied.

Jimmy furrowed his brows. "The robbery at Gringott's?"

"Yeah. It happened the day of our birthdays, isn't it weird?"

"Wait a sec. The day of your birthdays? You were born the same day?" Ron asked, astounded.

"Yeah. July 31st. Didn't you know?" Neville answered.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"Well... Jimmy is your best friend, so I thought you knew his birthday. And I am... well... me."

"Don't brag, scarred man!"

"I don't!"

"Alright, stop it!" Jimmy intervened to cut out the neverending bickering which was surely going to come. "What does the robbery have to do with anything, Nev?"

"What if the thing the dog is guarding is the same thing they tried to steal?"

Jimmy looked at him wide eyed. "How did you get such an idea?"

"The fact is... I was with Grandma in Diagon Alley that day. I had to buy things for school and she wanted to buy me a present... And we met Hagrid in Gringott's, and Grandma said she didn't expect to find him there."

"So you think..."

"Well, they say that nothing was stolen because the vault had already been emptied... A bit too many coincidences, don't you think?"

"I think you're totally nutters," Ron declared uninterested. Neville gave him a murderous glare and Jimmy thought it better to separate the two before things got out of hand.

"Well... It's getting late, we have to go to Charms. See you later, Nev."

*

At Charms, Jimmy was paired with Seamus. He wasn't exactly thrilled, because the other boy had the bad tendency to make things explode when testing new incantations. Ron was even less thrilled with the pairings, though. He had to work with Hermione.

Jimmy was only half concentrated on their task of levitating feathers. He kept glancing in Ron and Hermione's direction, worried one of them would strangle the other at any moment. It looked as if Hermione was lecturing Ron, and he didn't seem pleased with it. In the end, she performed a perfect levitation spell (not that Jimmy was surprised), which made Ron even more sulky. To top it all, Seamus was caught in the excitement of Hermione's success and in his enthusiasm he managed (only Merlin knew how) to set fire on his feather. Jimmy, who'd been caught by surprise since he was still studying with concern his best friend and the girl of the toad's dynamics, let out a scream which got Flitwick's attention. The tiny wizard gave a quick flick with his wand, and the flames suddenly disappeared. Jimmy wondered if he would ever be able to do the same. Then he wondered if Hermione already was.

*

During lunch Hedwig dropped an envelope in front of Jimmy. Despite having ignored his father's letters for ages, he still hoped he'd see his handwriting on it and was very disappointed recognizing Jennifer's. He'd stopped enjoying her letters ages ago, especially since were filled with her perfect, bright life and no sympathy for all his troubles whatsoever; he was starting to feel betrayed by her, too.

"So, your father finally wrote again?"

Jimmy nearly jumped at the unexpected voice.

"You? Again? Maybe you haven't understood the conformation of the Hall..."

"Oh, Weasley, shut up!"

"Well, Nev," Jimmy intervened. "As much as I love you, I think Ron is right. Anyway, no. This is from Jenny and... What the hell are you doing?!"

Neville had gasped and lowered down, hiding behind Jimmy's back. "Whatever happens, you haven't seen me."

"What is it, Neville? Not Malfoy once again..."

"I'd take Malfoy a thousand times over her."

"Her?"

The answer presented itself mere seconds later. "Hey, Portman!" Samantha Rosier exclaimed, her hands on her hips and her blue eyes gleaming severely. She reminded Ron of his mother when she was angry. He couldn't help but gulp. "Have you seen Longbottom?"

"N-no."

She stared at him suspiciously for a while, then turned on her heels and marched towards her House's table. Neville waited for her to be far enough away, then reemerged again.

"Care to explain?" Jimmy asked shocked.

"She's stalking me!" Neville complained. "I don't know what's wrong with her, but she's always on my neck! She's scary!!!"

All that talk talk about scary and stalking girls made Jimmy think about Hermione. He realized in that moment that she wasn't at the table and he felt concerned for a moment. He shook the thought away quickly, though. Probably she was only in the Library moving forward with the study of the following year's schedule.

But it was clear he'd been wrong when Hermione didn't show up at all for the entire day. She still was nowhere in sight that evening at dinner, and Jimmy's concern for her sharpened considerably. He turned to Ron, whose only thought seemed to be the food, as usual. "Why did you say those things?"

"What?"

"Hermione! She's not here! She seems to have fallen off the face of the Earth, ever since she heard you say those things!"

A little guilt seemed to transpire on Ron's face. He searched the Gryffindor table with his eyes for a moment, like he hoped to see Hermione pop up all of a sudden. She didn't. "I..."

He didn't add anything more, because right in that moment Professor Quirrell entered the Great Hall in a rush, seemingly terrified. "Troll! In the dungeons!" he shrieked, before falling senseless to the ground.

There was immediate chaos. All students panicked and started screaming and running in all directions, until Dumbledore called them all back to order and had the Prefects leading the students back to the Common Rooms in neat rows. Jimmy and Ron followed, just like anyone else. Then a bell rang in Jimmy's mind. He took Ron by the arm to stop him.

"What?" the other boy asked.

"Hermione."

"Shit!"

They let the other Gryffindors go past them, then started moving the opposite direction, trying to go unnoticed among the crowd.

*

Neville was following the Slytherin Prefect with the other first years. He was at the back of the row, more focused in avoiding Malfoy and Rosier than he was in escaping the danger of the troll. Not that he wasn't scared; he was terrified, actually. Yet he couldn't help but wonder how it could've happened. It was unlikely that a troll could get into the school on his own, they were too stupid... While these thoughts crossed his mind, he caught sight of something red moving down a side corridor. A better look told him that the red wasn't anything else than the hair of a boy, and that another boy with brown hair was following him close by. Ron and Jimmy... Speaking about stupid people... What the hell were they up to this time?

Neville managed to separate from his group and followed the two Gryffindors, in the meantime cursing himself for letting them draw him into their foolishness. "Jimmy! Ron!" he cried once he spotted them.

They froze in place, then slowly turned to face him.

"For Merlin's sake, Nev! Will you stop to do this? You'll give us a heart attack one day or another! We thought some teacher caught us!"

"What the hell are you doing?!" Neville yelled, ignoring Jimmy's words. "You can't be foolish enough to think to go after the troll, now can you?"

"Hermione wasn't at dinner, she doesn't know anything, we're looking for her," Jimmy explained hurriedly.

Neville sighed. Well, at least they weren't trying to go fight a troll just for the sake of it. But couldn't they just alert a teacher or something? Damned Gryffindors and their rescuing-mania...

*

It all happened in a rush.

First they were running without really knowing where to go.

Then the troll suddenly appeared and they locked it into a room, only to find out mere seconds later, with horror, that it was the bathroom in which Hermione had hidden all day.

Then the hopeless fight, in which all four kids risked more than once to be crushed by the monstrous, gigantic creature and its club.

And finally that same club, levitated by Ron, fell right onto the troll's head, knocking it down.

"You all okay?" Jimmy asked, still panting.

"If I don't have an infarct in the next five minutes, yeah," Neville answered, his hand pressed on his heart like he was trying to avoid that it jumped out of his chest.

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked in a tiny voice.

"I doubt it. I think we just knocked it out," Jimmy responded matter-of-factly.

Hermione nodded. Jimmy had never seen her so pale. For a moment he feared that she would faint. He managed a small, reassuring smile and he could swear that she'd returned it.

Then arrived the teachers. First McGonagall, who looked simply livid. How could Jimmy have thought that the troll was scary? It surely didn't stand comparison.

Then Quirrell, who seemed paler and even more terrified than Hermione herself.

And finally Snape, with his usual indecipherable frown. His black eyes met Jimmy's hazel ones for a moment. Jimmy could read in there the usual disgust, but there was also something else... concern, maybe? Was that even possible? Then the teacher diverted his glare, but Jimmy continued to stare at him, and noticed something else. Snape's leg was bleeding. What could have ever happened to him?

Any thought about it was quickly erased from his mind, though, when McGonagall started screaming against them all. Jimmy didn't know what to say, but unexpectedly it was Hermione who saved them all, taking all the blame on herself. Jimmy was astounded, and incredibly grateful. When half an hour later he finally fell onto his bed, exhausted, he couldn't help but smile, thinking that he'd just made a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers the events narrated in _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter 10 - Halloween_ , by J.K.Rowling. Some features in the chapter are taken directly from there. Anything you recognize is J.K.'s property, I own nothing.
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone! <3


	8. Quidditch, curses and family affairs

"DOREA!"

James woke up suddenly, startled. His hand automatically flew to his wand, which he always kept under his pillow while sleeping; he'd learned a long time ago, at a high price, to never lower his defenses. He quickly realized there was no imminent threat to menace him or his family at the moment, though; he put the wand away and threw his arm around his wife's shoulder, slowly rubbing hers up and down in what he hoped was a soothing way. She was trembling and panting heavily and she was staring in the void, apparently oblivious of his touch.

"Lily, love..." he said quietly. "It's alright. It was just a dream."

That seemed to shake her out of her trance. "Oh, James! I'm sorry... I... They were taking her... They were carrying her away from me... I can't lose her too..."

"No one's taking Dor anywhere. No one's going to hurt our daughter, I promise. Not if I can help it."

Lily nodded, even if she didn't feel reassured in the slightest. Wasn't that what he'd said about Harry, too? James didn't notice her lack of conviction. He still smiled and kissed her softly on the lips. "Go back to sleep, now. I love you." He laid down again and she did the same. Mere instants later James was asleep, slightly curled up on his left flank with his arm under his pillow and his back to her. He couldn't know that Lily was still fully awake, her eyes wide opened as she stared at the white ceiling of their bedroom without really seeing it, the cries of her little one from her nightmare still resounding way too vividly in her ears.

*

Lily wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

In his cold and stark quarters down in the dungeons of Hogwarts' castle, Severus was fighting with his own dream issues, which curiously had a lot to do with Lily Evans-Potter herself.

Anytime he closed his eyes, she would taunt his sleep, either reminding him how much worthier Potter was than him or accusing him to be the cause of her son's loss.

Sometimes, when he was lucky, he would dream of the two of them together. Those weren't pleasant dreams, either, because there was always in the background of his mind the knowledge that it wasn't real and would never be, and they would only make more difficult facing reality at the moment of the wake. Yet it was always better than the versions with steely glares and venomous words he was so used to.

That Halloween night couldn't be enumerated among the lucky ones. Other than Lily turning down his supplicant apologies with an icy _Save your breath_ and distant memories of the tortures the Marauders used to put him through when they were teenagers, Portman and Longbottom kept springing up in his oneiric world, usually chased by some kind of unspecified mortal peril he knew he couldn't shield them from. It was all so bloody frustrating.

A couple of days after, when he had lesson with the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years, he was surprised, but not quite, to see Portman, Longbottom, Weasley and Granger occupying one of the desks together. And so the quartet was finally formed, just like he feared would happen. Obviously, there were differences, loads of differences, between now and then.

First of all, Granger was definitely no Pettigrew. She was a girl, to begin with. And she was smart, talented (there was no denying that, as much as he would've loved to), proud and independent. Not to say brave, generous and loyal, as far as he'd seen. Practically Pettigrew's opposite on all the line.

Longbottom was a Slytherin (even if he might not look like one) and no werewolf (thank Merlin). Sure, he had a very low self-esteem and a marked tendency to eye-rolls, but the similarities with Lupin ended there.

Portman and Weasley... Well, they were stubborn, and hot-headed, and irresponsible. And absolutely disrespectful. But even Severus had to admit that they were nowhere near as arrogant and overbearing as Potter and Black used to be.

Still he couldn't help but see the Marauders sitting in front of him. Especially since Portman kept throwing him suspicious and hateful glances.

*

"For heaven's sake, James!" Hermione exclaimed, in a poor attempt to keep her voice low, clasping Jimmy's wrist suddenly. "It says mice spleens, not rice seeds! Are you dyslexic, maybe?"

Jimmy rechecked the instructions from his textbook, while Ron suppressed a chuckle and Neville a resigned sigh. Unfortunately for them all, Snape chose that moment to check on their proceedings.

"I suppose you're all finished, since you are so busy chatting," the professor said coldly, then peeked inside Jimmy's cauldron. "But clearly that's not the case."

"Actually, we were-" Jimmy started, but he was cut off immediately.

"I think a detention would serve you right, Mr. Portman."

Jimmy could hardly believe his ears. A detention? For having been talked to for a moment? It was just so immensely unfair. He dominated his instinct to start shouting angrily against his teacher, he knew Snape was just expecting that from him, so that he could punish him even more severely. Why did he hate him that much, anyway?

He heard a soft moan from his left, but he ignored it and kept his eyes fixed in Snape's. Finally the professor moved away, and Jimmy turned to Ron, who was massaging his foot while glaring angrily at Neville. "What the hell?"

"This idiot stamped my foot."

"Someone had to stop you, before you did something stupid," Neville replied unfazed.

"Shush," Hermione intervened. "We don't need any more trouble."

Jimmy nodded his agreement and all of them turned silent and concentrated on the respective potions. He lowered the heat under his cauldron, like the instructions said, and then cast a quick glance towards the bushy haired girl furiously stirring next to him. He couldn't help but smile. He felt grateful to have Hermione in their group. She was still a bit bossy and annoyingly prig, but she'd definitely softened after the troll's incident and she'd turned out to be quite an enjoyable company. She was quick and smart, generous, helpful and patient, and she widely compensated his and Ron's lack of prudence and self-control. She reminded him a bit of Jennifer, now that he thought about it. He might even have liked Hermione better.

*

At lunch, the four friends were sitting together at the Gryffindor table. By then, people had gotten used to Neville having the most of his meals there rather than at his house's table. No one marveled at it anymore, and no one seemed to mind, either, except possibly Samantha Rosier.

Ron hadn't stopped complaining yet about Snape, which Jimmy found a bit annoying, to be honest. He didn't want to think about his totally undeserved detention and Ron was doing nothing but keeping reminding him of it.

"Oh, Weasley, shut up! We all know he was unfair, but there's no use complaining about it. Besides, Snape might be not the frendliest of people, but he's quite alright."

"Of course, Longbottom, since he is your Head of House and he always favour Slytherins. You must be the teacher's pet."

"Quite alright, Neville?" Jimmy asked abashed, ignoring Ron's retort. "He hates me! And what was he doing on the third floor's corridor on Halloween?"

"Again this story! You can't be sure he went there! And you should stop this absurd mental movie you're building up!" Hermione said exasperated.

"What's a movie?" all three boys asked in unison. She just rolled her eyes.

Exchanges like that had been a constant since Halloween. The mistery of the troll and the three-headed dog and the robbery at Gringott's was their main topic of conversation and often kept them engaged for hours at a time.

Neville insisted that the object hidden in the school was the same the misterious thieves had tried to rob from the bank.

Ron insisted that the troll couldn't have entered on his own, and that someone must've taken it inside to create a diversion.

Jimmy insisted that Snape's bleeding leg was because he'd tried to get past the dog and it had bitten him.

Hermione insisted that they should forget about it all and devote to study instead.

Devoting to study, or to anything else, proved hard for Jimmy in the following days. The first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, was approaching frighteningly quickly and Oliver Wood wasn't giving him a breather, forcing his team to train at all hours of day and night. When the Saturday of the match eventually arrived, for Jimmy it was nearly a relief.

*

"You aren't sitting anywhere near me, Longbottom, if you have to wear that thing," Ron spatted at Neville, glaring with hatred at his green and silver scarf.

"I'm a Slytherin, Weasley, and I'm going to support my House," he rebated coldly.

"Cut it, you both. Can't see what the big deal is, really," Hermione commented, annoyed, her face hidden behind some thick book, instead of looking at the pitch like the rest of the school.

"Hermione! It's Quidditch!" the two boys cried in unison, appaled. She just shrugged and went on reading. Neville wondered why she'd come at all. Ron rolled his eyes and decided that he would simply ignore the other two.

The match was sharp. After Slytherin's fifth foul, Neville took off his scarf testily. He really wanted to support his housemates, but he couldn't accept such a misconduct play. Besides, he was more interested in Jimmy's performance than in the match result.

Jimmy really was a natural flier. Neville had only being told about the way he'd caught his Remembrall the day of their first flying lesson. This was the first time he actually saw him fly, and he was just astounded by how good he was. Even Hermione had abandoned her book at a certain point, unable to keep her eyes off of Jimmy.

At a certain point, a Bludger sped in front of Jimmy, cutting his path, missing the point of his broomstick by mere hinches. Neville, scared for his friend, leaned out from the stands, and that was when his head started to ache, a lot. His scar burnt painfully, all his forehead seemed on fire, and then, all of a sudden, the banister sagged under his weight.

"Neville!" Ron and Hermione screamed together panicked, and tried to grab him, but they didn't make it in time. He was falling into the void.

Fortunately, Jimmy noticed and dived to catch him, forgetting the game for a moment. He managed to grab him and hoist him on his broomstick, before it gave a violent tug, like it was trying to unseat them both.

"What's going on?" Neville shouted between panic and anger. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know!" Jimmy shouted back, equally panicked. "Just calm down, you're making it even more difficult to control this thing!"

For a bit they were shoved back and forth, and it was a real luck Jimmy was such a good flier, or they would be both plummeting to their deaths. Then the broom's rebellion stopped all of a sudden, just like it had started. It was then that a glimpse of gold caught Jimmy's eye.

*

The Quidditch match had ended about an hour before, after Jimmy Portman made a spectacular dive and caught the Snitch, ensuring victory for Gryffindor. Actually, it had been Longbottom who'd caught the Snitch, so it should've been Slytherin to gain the one hundred and fifty points for it, but apparently the rules stated that the catching was valid only if performed by a Seeker and Longbottom wasn't even a player. Needless to say, Severus was furious. And the humiliation of his House was the least of reasons.

"She set me on fire! On fire, Dumbledore!"

Albus sighed. Sometimes he just didn't know how to handle Severus Snape. "I'm honestly more concerned in my students' security, than your clothing, Severus."

"My robes aren't the point! Those four criminals..."

"They are children, Severus. Miss Granger was just trying to save her friends, as we both know. And you really should cool down."

"Well, I'm done trying to protect Portman and his gang. And if you are really that concerned, why don't you just fire Quirrell and be done with it?"

"I'd rather have him here, under my control. Besides, we have no evidence that he's done anything wrong."

" _No evidence?!_ Isn't my word..."

"Your word might be enough for me, but not for others. Do I really have to remind you?"

Anger blasted in Severus' black eyes, but it lasted for only a moment. "No, Sir," he answered slowly, not quite meeting the older man's eyes.

"I should contact Mr Portman and Mrs Longbottom and inform them of today's accident. So, if there's nothing else..."

Severus seemed to want to add something, then thought better of it. He turned to leave, but stopped just before crossing the door. "I don't trust that boy," he muttered, in a soft tone that was hardly audible by Albus.

"We had a pact, Severus," he reminded him, quietly but firmly.

"I'm not backing off. I'm saying I don't like that boy. He reminds me way too much of Potter."

"And how it is, I wonder..."

Severus wasn't sure how to interpret that last comment. It didn't sound ironic or anything, just a mere statement. He felt like he should've said something more but, not really knowing what, he just lowered the handle and stepped out of the Headmaster's office, feeling a lot more confused, angry and scared than he'd been in the last ten years.

*

Sunday morning, while Jimmy and his three friends were having breakfast together at the Gryffindor table, Professor McGonagall approached them with her usual stern expression. "Portman, the Headmaster has required to see you. Come with me, now."

Jimmy exchanged a worried look with the other three. Why did the Headmaster want to see him? He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? All he received from his friends were clueless, pitiful glares. He stood and followed his Professor.

He crossed the threshold of Dumbledore's office and found himself engulfed in a breath-taking hug. "Jimmy! You're alright, thank Merlin! I've been so scared... Couldn't you wait another year before joining the Quidditch team? You could've broken your neck!!! And why didn't you write?!? Have you got a vague idea-"

"Dad!" Jimmy complained. Why was he there? Jimmy didn't want to confront him, not yet. And especially not when he was in ultra-apprehensive-and-overprotective mode. There was no way of having a serious conversation with him under those conditions.

"I suppose you two have a lot to discuss. I'll leave you alone," Dumbledore said. Jimmy had even forgotten that they were in his office.

Peter studied his son with concern, while Jimmy kept avoiding his glare. "So? Why didn't you write?" he asked again, severely.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jimmy retorted aggressively.

"Why didn't I tell you what?"

No answer. Jimmy was still looking down at his feet and Peter was still studying him with growing concern.

"Who am I?" The question was so soft and hurried that Peter nearly missed it. He didn't need to ask what Jimmy meant, he already knew perfectly. It scared him a bit, and it crushed his heart, to hear the plead and the despair in Jimmy's voice.

"My son."

With great effort, Jimmy lifted his eyes on Peter's face and gave him a mistrustful glare. Peter couldn't help but let out a sigh, before kneeling to reach his son's eyes' height and posing both hands on his shoulders. "James. Now listen to me. I know what you're thinking, but you have to believe this. You are my son, and I am your father. Not your biological father, maybe. But this doesn't change the fact that we're a family, and that I love you."

"But-"

"No, James. There's no arguing over it. I might not be the one who actually generated you, but you're still my son. You're still my little child and I'll still protect you and stay by your side forever."

Jimmy knew his father was being sincere, and he knew it should've sufficed to him, but it didn't. He wanted answers. If Peter wasn't his biological father, he wanted to know who was. And more than anything, he wanted to know the reason for all those lies. "But why you never told me anything? Who are my biological parents? Where am I from? How did I end up with you? Why-"

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I truly am. I was just trying to protect you. Please, don't ask me to tell you the details of your birth now. I can't put that weight on your shoulder just yet."

"What do you mean by-"

"The fact is... I made some horrid mistakes when I was younger... But whatever happened back then doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is that you and I are here, together."

Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He knew he wasn't going to get the truth out of his father, no matter how much he insisted. And after all Peter was right... Did it really matter? They had each other, and that was more than some people could have, like Neville for instance. _He loves you. And Love is never a lie._ As he recalled the Sorting Hat's words, he suddenly realized how much he'd missed his father in those last two months and a half. His eyes filled with tears as he threw himself into Peter's arms.

"It's okay, Jimmy. I'm here. It'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"You don't have to apologize. It's okay, son."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

*

"I think Transfiguration is the best. I'm not as good as Hermione, obviously, but last Wednesday McGonagall even congratulated me! Charms isn't bad either. Apart from when Seamus sets fire on our desk... Potions is just nightmare. Snape hates me, and-"

"Snape?" Peter interrupted. "Severus Snape? He's your teacher?"

"Yes... You know him?"

"Well... It's a long story..." Peter answered vague.

Jimmy gave him a questioning glare, but when his father didn't volunteer any other detail, he just let the matter drop. He'd been talking non-stop since they'd left Dumbledore's office, updating him on everything that had happened since he'd started school. Well... not everything... Mainly he talked about lessons, or little episodes with his friends. He didn't mention anything about being nearly expelled for tackling Malfoy in the sky, or about risking expulsion again that same night because he'd been stupid enough to believe that Malfoy would have the guts to actually confront him face to face. He carefully avoided any talk about huge three-headed dogs and twelve feet tall mountain trolls. And surely he said nothing about his suspects of Snape trying to steal some misterious object and attempting to murder him.

Finally they reached the Great Hall and Jimmy marched towards his friends at the Gryffindor table, dragging his father with him by the hand and smiling widely.

"Hey, Jim. Everything alright?" Neville asked, a little worriedly.

"Sure! May I introduce you to my father?"

Neville's mouth dropped in stupor, but he quickly regained his composure and forced a smile. Ron and Hermione, unaware of Jimmy's recent troubles with his father, were smiling kindly too.

"Dad, these are Ron Weasley..."

Peter shook Ron's hand, giving him a smile on his own.

"Hermione Granger..."

"Nice to meet you, Sir," she said enthusiastically as they too shook hands.

"And Neville Longbottom," Jimmy concluded.

"Longbottom? That Neville Longbottom?"

Neville's face darkened and Peter felt guilty (strange... such a new feeling... it never happened...)

"How many other Neville Longbottoms do you think are there, Dad?" Jimmy countered, rolling his eyes.

Peter gave out a little, a bit awkward, laugh. "How silly of me... I'm sorry... Nice to meet you, Neville."

"My pleasure, Sir," Neville answered, a bit more cheerfully. "I'm glad you and your son settled things right... I've been telling him all along that he was acting like an idiot!"

So Jimmy had told him? Judging from the perplexed expressions of the other two kids, they knew nothing about their father-son troubles. Peter studied the Boy-Who-Lived for just a bit longer. What would've happened if he'd chosen otherwise? Would have Jimmy been the one with the scar? Would have Alice and Frank been still alive?

"I can't deny that I'm glad too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Some features are taken from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter 11 - Quidditch_.
> 
> Also, _Save your breath_ is a quote from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 33 - The Prince's Tale_.
> 
> Both novels are the work of the fabolous J.K.Rowling. Everything you recognize from Harry Potter's world is her property, not mine.


	9. Auror James Potter

James shifted his weight left and right as he stood in front of the door to Dumbledore's office. He didn't really mind meeting the Headmaster, but for some reason the gesture of knocking in itself made him nervous. He couldn't help but think back to the last time he did, at sixteen years old, sent by McGonagall who'd just caught him in the middle of a  _Muggle contest_  with Snape. He'd had his reasons, but it still had been one of his lowest moments, not a memory he was particularly fond of.

"Enter," Dumbledore called, just like he did back then.

James lowered the handle and entered the circular room hesitantly, feeling like that sixteen-year-old boy once again. The Headmaster lifted his glance on him and smiled kindly. "James, my dear boy. What do I owe the pleasure?"

James forced himself to smile back. "Good morning, Sir. I hope I'm not disturbing..."

"Of course not. Come, sit down. Would you like a lemon drop?"

"No, thank you, Sir." James tried to sound the more polite he could, while wondering what the hell a lemon drop was. He sat in front of the old man who surveyed him with his light blue eyes, making James feel even more like a child. He diverted his glance for a moment, fixing it on one of the strange silver devices that covered Dumbledore's desk, and tried to remind himself that he was thirty-one, an accomplished Auror and the reason for which he'd come.

"Professor," he started, trying to give his voice an authoritative sound. "I'm here because I've heard of some strange happenings here at Hogwarts recently."

"Strange happenings, you say?" Dumbledore asked lightly.

"Well... A boy's broom was jinxed during a Quidditch match..."

A mix of emotions James wasn't able to place crossed Dumbledore's face. Confusion? Sadness? Fear? Guilt? "How do you know?"

"I have my sources."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him and James sighed. "Mr Portman is my new neighbour," he confessed.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Then I am sure you know that young Mr. Portman is perfectly fine. And I can assure you that he was never truly at risk, and that the safety of my students is still, and will always be, my first priority."

"I never doubted any of it, Sir."

An awkward silence grew between the two. James played for a bit with the Auror badge appointed on his robes, while Dumbledore kept staring at him from over his hands, which he kept joined in front of him as if in prayer.

"Why is this Aurors' concern?" he asked after a while, with an odd tone of voice that James could only classify as curious, even if that definition felt deeply limitative.

"Attempted murder is Aurors' concern," he answered, frowning, then couldn't help but add, "and I'm quite sure this is related to some other case I'm investigating."

"And how would it be?"

"Shall we talk about the Philosopher's Stone, Sir?"

It was obvious that Dumbledore hadn't expected this. He looked at James like it was the first time he actually saw him. "How do you know?"

"I have my sources."

There was another long, equally awkward pause, then James started asking questions in burst. "Why did you withdrew the Stone from Gringott's? Did you expect someone to try to steal it? Do you already know who's behind the robbery? Where is the Stone now? How can you be sure-"

"Slow down, Mr. Potter. Is it this the way you're trained to carry out a questioning?"

"It wasn't meant to be a questioning, Sir."

"In this case, I suppose I'm not bond to answer."

James gave him an incredulous stare and Dumbledore sighed. "Dark forces are stirring, James," he said tiredly. "Evil hasn't been uprooted completely, as we both know. But I'm doing everything in my power to prevent something terrible from happening. And I need you to trust me on this, just like you did ten years ago."

The request caused a surge of anger in the younger man. "Ten years ago? When Voldemort nearly disrupted my family?" he asked, raising his voice just slightly.

"I offered as Secret Keeper, if you remember,” Dumbledore replied with extreme calmness, raising his hands as in a peace offering. “It was you who insisted to choose Sirius instead."

"And it was Sirius who convinced me to change to Peter," James ended bitterly. Where was the bloody rat now? Was Harry still with him? Was he alright? Would James ever see his son again?

"I will tell you as much as I'll feel advisable to tell you. And I'll allow you to speak to the rest of the teaching staff as well, if that is your desire. But I have to ask you to be careful about which use you'll put what you'll learn to. There are a few news I don't exactly trust the Ministry with, news I seriously doubt Fudge would be able to handle..."

James had a vague idea which news Dumbledore referred to. He closed his eyes as fear filled him with renewed strength. Then he wasn't being paranoiac, like Sirius kept suggesting; Dumbledore shared his suspects. And if Dumbledore shared his suspects... "So you think that too? You think it's him? You think he wants the Stone to try to get back?"

The Professor nodded gravely. "That's what I think, yes."

James left Dumbledore's office a quarter of hour later, his head filled with even more questions than when he'd entered. He decided to go see some teachers, to get a more clear view into the Quidditch affair at least, if not into the Stone one. He had promised Peter Portman some answers, and he needed to put some order in his thoughts anyway.

First he paid a visit to Professor McGonagall and then to Madam Hooch. Both women welcomed him warmly, and both were very kind and collaborative. Sadly, none turned out to be quite useful, since they both seemed to have no explanation for what had happened.

So James went to see the last person he wished to encounter.

*

A knock on the door interrupted Severus mid-explanation. He hated to be interrupted.

"Enter," he called annoyed, turning to see the classroom's door oped with a soft creak. A man stood in the doorway, with round spectacles and ruffled black hair, a man Severus hadn't seen in years and had hoped he wouldn't see for much longer.

"Potter. What are you doing here?" he asked coldly. He noticed out of the corner of his eye Portman's head suddenly rising up in attention, but he ignored it as he kept staring at his sworn enemy with loathing.

"Good morning to you, too," Potter retorted bitterly. "Actually, I'm here on Auror's capacity. I was wondering if I could steal you a few minutes and ask you some questions."

"No, Potter, you can't. As you can see, I'm teaching right now, and I don't like to be interrupted."

"Perhaps I didn't explain myself clearly. I was trying to be polite, but it's not like you can decide not to answer me, Snape."

"Professor," he interjected angrily.

"Sorry?"

"It's Professor Snape to you, Potter."

"Auror."

Severus blinked a couple of times, not understanding. Potter gave out his insufferable sneer before clarifying. "Since you are so fond of titles,  _Professor_  Snape, then you can address me as  _Auror_  Potter. And now, if you'd be so kind..."

Severus growled inwardly but nodded. "Very well," he muttered, then turned to his students. "This class is dismissed. You may go."

*

All the children quickly collected their things and scampered out, while Auror Potter approached the teaching desk in one fluid motion.

Jimmy was in no hurry to leave. He took his time extinguishing the fire under his cauldron and sealing his vials and putting everything back in his bag. Neville stopped at the classroom's door and arched an eyebrow at him but he just waved his hand dismissively, as if to say  _go ahead_. He wanted to know why an Auror needed to talk to Snape. Even more, he wanted to know who the man was. He'd heard that surname once and he surely wasn't going to forget it any time soon.

"Well, Snape. What I want to know is..." the man started, but was cut off immediately by Snape's sudden shout. "Portman! What do you think you're doing?!?"

"Just... Just putting away my stuff, Sir..."

"Get out! Immediately!"

Jimmy threw the rest of his things in the bag and flew out of the room, shutting the door behind himself. Outside he found Neville, Ron and Hermione waiting for him.

"What..." they started in chorus, but he shushed them with an annoyed wave of his hand. "I want to listen to what they're saying."

"Why? Why would you care?" Neville asked, exasperated.

"Eavesdropping is rudeness," Hermione pointed out severely.

But Jimmy ignored them, and pressed his ear against the door, with Ron right alongside him. He could still feel Hermione's reproachful stare on him, but it wasn't so difficult to ignore. At least, she was quiet. It was Neville that was driving him crazy. Jimmy could get only snippets of the conversation going on at the other side of the door over his constant muttering.

_Hex the broom_

"Because it isn't enough that you've already risked your neck at least a dozen times..."

_Just a stupid boy_

"Were you like this in Baltimore, too? Or did the change of time zone damage your brain?"

_Doubt Longbottom did_

"Cause I know for a fact that you're totally mental."

"Neville! Shut up!" Jimmy exclaimed exasperated. Neville did shut up, and Jimmy sighed in relief as he posed his ear on the door once again.

"I'm asking  _you_ , Snape!" Auror Potter was saying, with obvious frustration.

Snape's response was a shout so loud and full of anger that it made all four kids jump. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, POTTER? I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING! YOU THINK IT WAS ME, DON'T YOU? YOU HOPED IT WAS ME, SO YOU HAD AN EXCUSE..."

"MERLIN'S PANTS, SEVERUS! STOP BEING SUCH AN IDIOT!"

For a bit none of the two spoke, then Potter started talking again, in a much quieter, mostly condescending way. "I think absolutely nothing. I'm only trying to assess what happened. And for all it's worth-" the rest of the sentence was spoken too quietly for Jimmy to hear it.

"Apologize? You?" Snape asked, disbelievingly.

"I know I've been a bit of a bully back in school days, and I'm sorry," Potter's voice said after a little pause. "But we're not kids anymore, Severus, teenage rivalry should stay in the past. I'm only asking for your collaboration."

"I've already told you everything I knew."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! And now, get out! I have work to do!"

"Alright, as you wish. I'll tell Lils you send your greetings." Footsteps approached the door and Jimmy and Ron only had enough time to take a step back before it swung open.

Potter's eyes widened in stupor at the sight of the kids and he seemed on the verge of screaming something, but Jimmy shot him a pleading look and, thankfully, he kept quiet. He closed the door of the classroom, then turned to the kids with a glare that was clearly meant to look stern, but turned out to be amused instead. "Didn't anyone tell you it is rude to eavesdrop?"

"Actually, I did," Hermione answered promptly. Jimmy threw her a murderous glare, before turning to the man in front of him, wearing a contrite expression. "We're sorry, Sir... We were just curious..."

Potter didn't seem to hear, distracted by Neville's sight. "You are Neville Longbottom?" he asked astounded. Neville's expression went dark, Jimmy knew he hated to be recognized by people.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," the Auror went on in a kind tone. "I didn't recognize you from that, anyway." He pointed at Neville's forehead, and the kid automatically raised his hand to brush his lightining-bolt scar. "I recognized you because you have your mother's eyes, and mouth, and face shape. And your father's nose, and forehead, and hair colour."

"You knew my parents?" Neville asked surprised.

"Oh, yes. I did. We attended Hogwarts at the same time, they were just a couple of years older than me. And Frank and I entered the Auror's training program together. Extraordinary people, the both of them. It was horrible to hear of their death... I'm terribly sorry."

Neville said nothing, just gave a little nod of acknowledgment. Jimmy noticed that his eyes were watering. He decided that he should break the tension somehow. "Erm... Sir... I know this isn't our business, but maybe you should know that Professor Sna-"

"And you are Jimmy Portman, aren't you?" Auror Potter interrupted, turning his attention on him.

"Yes, Sir... How do you know?"

"I happen to know your father as well. You resemble Peter quite a lot... Well, maybe  _you_ should tell me what happened during that Quidditch match."

The four kids launched themselves in the recount of all the events, often interrupting and speaking above each other.

"And then Hermione noticed that Snape was staring at them and muttering something, without blink. And she went and set fire to his robes to distract him," Ron explained proudly.

"And that's when I finally got control of my broom once again," Jimmy went on.

"And then I caught the Snitch!" Neville concluded excitedly.

"You caught the Snitch?" Potter asked confused.

"Was just luck," Jimmy said impatiently. "I had practically grabbed it, but Neville's hand happened to be in the way. In any case, this is irrelevant. The point is Snape tried to kill us."

Jimmy could tell by Potter's expression that he didn't believe them and that made him angry. "We spoke the truth!" he exclaimed, crossing his arms tightly in front of his chest in an offended gesture.

"Oh, I'm sure you spoke what you  _believe_  is the truth. But I'm also sure your teacher isn't responsible for what happened. You might have misunderstood the events."

"You don't like him either!" It sounded more like an accusation than an attempt to gain agreement. Potter gave Jimmy a strange, evaluating glance, before smiling again. "You're right, I don't. But unlikable people aren't necessarily murderers."

"But-"

"Thank you for sharing your point of view, kids. It's been precious. But now, try to forget about it and stay out of trouble, alright?"

"Should be easy..." Jimmy heard Neville murmur bitterly under his breath. He pretended he didn't. "Of course, Sir. We will."

*

"And so, they think it was Snape," James said, as he cast a powerful shield charm. Sirius' stunner deflagrate against it in a spurt of red sparks.

"Wouldn't put it past old Snivellus to try to kill his students," he commented, as he ducked James' body-bind with an odd somersault.

"Dumbledore trusts him. Lily too. So I trust him as well," James said, attempting a disarming spell, which Sirius dispelled easily. "And the only one I remember ever attempting murder at Hogwarts it's you."

Sirius huffed annoyed as he lowered his wand. James lowered his as well, heavily panting. They'd been duel training non stop for the last hour and a half and he was exhausted. He hated to admit it, but he was getting old for that sort of things, he no longer had the physique.

"Not that old story once again! It was an accident!"

"How was it an accident? You sent him right into the clutches of a fully formed werewolf!"

"Didn't think he would go down there for real! And anyway, I didn't mean to tell him, it just slipped. He was exasperating me. Do we really have to argue over this again?"

"No," James answered dismissively, then raised his wand again. "You ready?"

"I was born ready."

For a bit they simply fired and ducked spells in silence. From the outside it would look more like a ballet than a duel. They knew each other so well they could foresee the other's every single move and that made it practically impossible for any strike to hit. It was at the same time challenging and pointless.

"And the Stone?" Sirius asked, after a while.

"All I managed to get out of Dumbledore is that it is very well hidden and protected. He made it sound like the teachers set some sort of obstacle course."

"Sounds like the sort of thing Dumbledore would do."

"Maybe... I'm still worried..."

"It can't be Voldemort, Prongs. It just can't," Sirius protested, in an almost pleading tone.

"Dumbledore thinks it's him, though. He told me explicitly... Well, as explicitly as Dumbledore can get."

James jumped to avoid the jet of orange light Sirius just cast against him, but he wasn't quick enough. The spell hit his left ankle and a sharp pain radiated through his leg. He fell flat on his stomach with a moan. Sirius immediately pocketed his wand and ran to his aid. "Merlin, Jamie. I'm sorry. You okay?" he asked as he helped him straightening.

"Don't apologize. If you were a Death Eater, I would be already dead," he said, grimacing a bit as he posed his foot on the ground.

"Thank goodness I'm no Death Eater, then. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I suppose... What was that, anyway? Some sort of localized Cruciatus Curse?"

"Oh, come on. It couldn't have been that bad..." Then his expression turned somber. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" he asked seriously.

"No, of course not. But it did hurt quite a bit."

"It was supposed to." Sirius smirked. "A little trick I learned from my baby cousin."

"Your cousin? Oh, you mean Drom's daughter. What's her name, once again?"

"Nymphadora," he answered with a grimace. "Well, the Blacks madness had to strike Andy too, somehow. How did she come up with that name, I wonder? By the way, if you don't want to experience true pain, don't call the girl that. She goes by Tonks."

"I'll keep that in mind. Shall we call it truce?"

"Only if you admit defeat."

James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, whatever."

*

"Do you think we really misinterpreted the events?" Hermione asked quietly.

She, Ron, Jimmy and Neville were at a corner table in the library, discussing the Auror's visit in hushed tones. Jimmy wasn't really on it, though. More than Snape's involvement in his near fall to his death, he was brooding over his Sorting.  _That's strange to hear, coming from a Potter..._  Was it possible that that man...

"Hey, Jimmy. Are you here with us?" Neville's voice broke his train of thought.

"Erm... What?"

"You didn't share your opinion," Hermione said patiently, with the tone of voice Jimmy imagined a mother could use when scolding a little child. He couldn't be sure, though. He couldn't remember to have ever had a mother.

"About Snape? You already know my opinion. He's trying to steal whatever the dog guards, and he's tried to kill Nev and me because he thinks we're a menace. Whatever that Potter guy might say."

"Jimmy... Are you alright?" Neville asked, concerned.

"Yeah, fine."

"You're not. What's going on?"

Jimmy sighed. "You'll think I'm being stupid."

"I already think that. You have nothing to lose."

Jimmy gave Neville the devil's eye, and he smiled apologetically in response.

" _Potter_. That's how the Hat called me during my Sorting."

"The world is full of Potters," Ron pointed out.

"Or at least, Britain is," Hermione corrected, but she obviously meant that Ron had a point.

"He also said that he knows my father," Jimmy added, ignoring his friends' comments. "Isn't that too much of a coincidence?"

"He knew my parents, too. Doesn't make us related," Neville said with a shrug. Then he frowned, perplexed. "I really can't get it, though..."

"What can't you get, Longbottom?" Ron asked with a point of annoyance. Jimmy wondered why it was so difficult for those two to simply get along.

"Potter said that you resemble your dad. And you do, thinking about it. If he isn't really your father, why do you resemble him so much?"

It  _was_  strange, now that Neville brought it up. Also back in the States a lot of people used to tell him how much he resembled his father. Why was it, if they weren't actually related by blood? "I have no idea."

Hermione seemed deep in thought, then realization sparkled in her eyes and she suddenly sprang up on her feet. "Maybe I have an idea. I need to check a couple of books first. See you later, guys." And she disappeared behind the closest shelf.

"Am I the only one who thinks she's scary when she does that?" Ron asked to no one in particular.

"For once, Weasley, I completely agree with you."


	10. Christmas

The bell rang as the door of the Apothecary swung open. Dorea, who'd been sitting on the counter swinging her legs, immediately jumped down and ran to the man standing in the doorway.

"Uncle Remus!" she squealed excitedly, throwing her small arms around the man's legs.

"Hi, little one! Happy to see you, too!" he said, shuffling her hair. "Where's mummy?"

"In the back." She pointed with her finger. "Brewing something. She said I could attend to customers. Are you a customer?"

"More or less... Can you call your mum, please?"

"Okay."

She disappeared into a small door behind the counter and reappeared a few minutes later, with her mother right behind her. Lily's hair was tied up in a messy bun and her cheeks were flushed, Remus imagined from working at her potion (that was one reason he'd never liked brewing, he couldn't stand the heat). She brushed her hands on her robes, then finally looked at him and gave him a bright smile. "Hello, Remus. It's a bit you don't show up..."

Her tone had turned reproachful and Remus felt his cheeks flush as well. "Yes... Sorry... I've been... busy."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Busy... I see...” she said skeptically. “Well, what brings you here? How can I help you?"

Remus lowered his gaze, as if ashamed of himself. He was ashamed of himself, even if there was a voice in his head, a voice that sounded a lot like James', telling him that it was stupid. "How much?" he asked simply, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't need to add more, he knew she would understand what he meant.

She understood, and she bit her lip, before answering apologetically "Twenty galleons."

"Oh."

"You know, Remus. There is the silver powder... And aconite is not a common plant, it's expensive... And then there is the manpower. It's a difficult potion, only a few very talented potioneers are up to make it, I still have trouble myself. And..."

"Yes, sure. It's alright. I understand. Sorry if I bothered you, Lily. Maybe next month..."

"Remus. Wait." She stopped him before he could leave the shop. He stepped back.

"How much do you have?"

He fished in his pockets and pulled out a handful of coins. "Fifteen galleons and twelve sickles."

"I'll put in the rest. Here's your Wolfsbane." She handed him a vial full of an ink-black, viscose substance.

"No. Lily, I can't accept it."

"Sure you can. You know money is not an issue for us."

"Yes, I know. Doesn't mean I like your charity."

"It's not charity. You'll return me the money when you'll manage."

"Which is to say, never."

"Rem! Stop complaining and just take it!"

"No! You're not paying for my stuff!"

"How dense can you be? Listen, let's do this way. The potion is my early Christmas present for you. Sounds fair enough?"

He sighed and pocketed his money as well as the vial. "Alright. But don't you dare buy me anything for Christmas. And the same goes for James, too."

"Can I buy you a present, Uncle Remus?" Dorea intervened shyly.

"You can do anything you want, Dor," he said with a smile.

"Not _anything_ ," Lily countered severely. She had her own quite long list of things her daughter shouldn't do, and she surely didn't need her husband's friends to put ideas in Dorea's head. "By the way, Remus. I expect you at lunch for Christmas. Don't you dare forfeit."

"If this thing works properly..." He patted his pocket where he'd put the vial of Wolfsbane potion. "Then I'll come, promise. Who else will be there?"

"Sirius, of course. Mary, if I manage to catch her. She mentioned something about a new girlfriend, I'll tell her to bring her along in case. I'd ask Bathilda, but she says she's too old for parties...”

“What about Emmeline?”

“At her parents'.” Lily rolled her eyes. “You know Em... Christmas is for family... I was thinking about inviting Peter, though."

"Peter?" Remus asked abashed, thinking of Pettigrew for a foolish moment. He tried to ignore the heart pang he felt at the thought of him. Then he realized whom Lily was talking about. "Ah, you mean your new neighbour. James mentioned something in his last letter..."

"The one you never answered back?"

"I told you, I've been busy...” Remus replied nervously, looking everywhere but at Lily's face. “I'll see you at Christmas, then, Lils. Bye, ladies." And he quickly left the apothecary, while Lily shook her head in exasperation.

*

Jimmy and his friends were all gathered around the Gryffindor table for breakfast, as usual. There were only a couple of weeks left before the Christmas Holidays and he was starting to grow excited, he couldn't wait to be home and hug his father again.

"You are all going home, then," Ron said, interrupting Hermione who had told them that she would go skiing with her parents and had then been trying to explain them how it worked and why it was fun.

"Of course," Neville replied smiling. "By the way, I asked Gran if you guys can come visiting sometime during the holidays. What do you think?"

"Oh... I don't think I'll manage, I think we'll be away the whole time..." Hermione said sadly.

"I'm sure Dad will be okay with it, Nev,” Jimmy said, grinning. “I'll let you know, anyway. What about you, Ron?"

Ron sighed. "I'm staying."

Jimmy gave him a perplexed look. "Staying? Where?"

"Here at Hogwarts, Jimmy. Where else?"

"Why? Aren't you going to stay with your family?" Neville asked surprised.

"Mum and Dad are going to Romania, to visit my brother Charlie. So Perce, Fred, George and I are staying here.” Ron's ears reddened a little as he added, “I sort of hoped some of you would stay too..."

Jimmy gave him a pitiful look, then suddenly smiled brightly. "Hey, idea! Why don't you come at my place? Dad just bought a new house, I'm sure there's place for you too."

"Oh, Jimmy, I don't know. I don't want to disturb. And Fred and George would be disappointed..."

As if on cue, the twins appeared beside them. "Of what would we be disappointed?" Fred, or maybe George, Jimmy wasn't sure, asked as he sat down next to his little brother, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Ron said you're staying here for the Holidays, so I asked him if he wants to come to my home, instead."

"I see... Well, you should go, little brother," the twin who'd sat next to Ron said.

"Yeah. We'll survive without you, Ronniekins," the other added.

"Survive without him? What do you mean?" a new voice intervened. Everyone turned to look at Percy, as he sat in front of his brothers on Hermione's left.

"Hello, Perfect. What are you doing here, among mere mortals?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Alright, what's going on?"

"Jimmy invited me at his house for Christmas break."

"Oh," Percy said, sounding displeased. Then he forced a smile. "Have you already asked Mum and Dad? Are they okay with it?"

"Not yet, Jimmy asked me five minutes ago. He hasn't asked his father yet, either."

"Oh, well. I'm sure they won't have any problem with it. Hope you'll have fun, Ronald." That said, Percy left them and joined a Prefect girl from Ravenclaw who was waving at him. The twins left too and went to sit next to Lee Jordan, who was entertaining a drapel of squeaky second-year girls with some funny anecdote. Jimmy felt suddenly relieved; he understood in that moment why Ron complained about his numerous family so much.

*

The last few days before Christmas break flew away in a rush. Jimmy and his three friends somehow managed to avoid any more deathly situations and to stay out of trouble. Snape hadn't stopped to hate him with a passion, but since Auror Potter's visit he'd changed his tactic and started ignoring him instead of harassing him, which was a great improvement.

In general, all lessons grew always more interesting, but that also meant harder, and the pile of homework they were assigned daily worryingly higher. Fortunately, Hermione was always glad to give a hand and that was the only reason Jimmy managed to survive the study stress.

Before knowing it, the four kids were on the Hogwarts' Express, sharing Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs, while Trevor the toad hopped up and down their compartment and Hedwig the owl followed attentively his every movement with her big, round, amber eyes.

They hopped down the train immediately after it stopped at Platform 9 3/4 of King's Cross Station and barely had time to exchange their farewells before being pushed towards the magical barrier by the crowd of the other students.

"Jimmy! Ron! I'll wait for you on boxing day!" Neville's voice screamed from somewhere ahead of them, followed by a disgruntled "Oh, no! Trevor! Where are you?"

"I'd lose that toad on purpose, if I were him."

"Ron, don't be naughty!" Jimmy reprimanded him, while scanning the crowd. Then he pointed to his left. "Look, down there! There's my dad!"

Peter greeted the two boys cheerfully, then Side-Apparated them directly into a parlor, not huge, but bigger than what Jimmy was used to. He let his glance hover around, trying to get in every little detail of the room. It lacked a bit of personality, but Jimmy was sure that would come with time. In every other aspect he found he liked it quite a lot.

"So... What do you think?" Peter, who'd been studying his son for all the time, asked apprehensively. Jimmy turned towards him with a wide smile. "Dad! It's amazing!"

"Good!" Peter returned the smile. "Why don't you go upstairs and settle down? Your room is the first on the left. I've already put in an extra bed for Ron... It's okay for you two to share, isn't it?"

Jimmy wouldn't have had it any other way. Actually, he would've liked to enjoy his room alone, since it was the first time he sat foot in there, but to spend late nights chatting and joking with Ron would certainly be worth the price. "Sure!" he exclaimed excitedly, before dragging Ron upstairs with him. They entered the room Peter had indicated and Jimmy's smile widened even more.

The walls were painted in light blue, just like his old bedroom back in his house in Baltimore used to be. On the right of the entrance were the beds, surrounded by tendrils in perfect Hogwarts' style. On the left there was a spacious desk and next to it a bookcase that would've made Hermione envious. Instead of books, though, it was filled with Jimmy's comics and CDs collection. Right above the desk, covering the most part of the wall, was his poster of the Flying Bullies, the seven players zooming around in tight formation. On the wall opposite the entrance a big window let the sunlight stream in. A spruce wood wardrobe stood on the right of it, only waiting to be filled with Jimmy's belongings, with which he busied himself immediately, while Ron threw himself into the bed nearest the door.

"Well, it's nice enough, I suppose," Jimmy said, once his trunk was empty and his magically widened new wardrobe full, jumping on his bed as well.

"You don't sound convinced."

Jimmy shrugged, then added sheepishly, "I still miss Baltimore..."

"Well, I'm glad your dad decided to move back here. And you should be too, Portman. I mean, you wouldn't have met someone as awesome as me!"

Jimmy threw his pillow at him. Ron's grin died on his lips when he was hit squarely on the face. Not more than a minute later the two boys were engaged in a ruthless pillow fight, goose feathers fluttering all around the room.

*

The next few days passed quickly, among Christmas decoration, shopping and the last details of home furnishing. The few moments of rest were usually spent with games of Exploding Snap or Wizards Chess. Peter didn't miss any of those occasions to remind the two boys of homework but in the end he always surrendered when he realized there was no way to get them to study.

“After all how could I complain, this is how I earn a living,” he would say shrugging and he would sit down next to them and join in their game, or give unrequested strategical suggestions to his son who would shout at him annoyed to just shut up and let him play his way.

Peter showed Ron all the chess sets he was most proud of, the ones Jimmy thought were the weirdest and ugliest, and they soon started to challenge each other, leaving Jimmy to simply watch for hours in a row. Jimmy hated it, even if a small part of him agreed that they were both too good and he just wasn't at their level.

Eventually Christmas morning arrived.

Jimmy gave out a big yawn and stretched, then turned towards Ron's bed with a huge smile plastered on his face.

Ron was seated there cross-legged, reading one of Jimmy's comics. He'd been waiting for him to wake up for half an hour at least. He would've shaken him awake, but Jimmy was sleeping so heavenly Ron felt bad disturbing him.

"About time you woke!" he said, pretending to be annoyed. "Get a move, I want to go to open the presents!"

"Yeah, yeah... Merry Christmas to you too, Weasley..."

The two jumped out of bed and rushed down the stairs. They burst into the kitchen where Peter was busy frying eggs and bacon.

"Merry Christmas, boys," he greeted them without turning from the stoves.

"Christmas, Dad!" Jimmy exclaimed cheerfully, before noticing the pile of delicious-looking pancakes on the kitchen counter. He grabbed one and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Instead of stealing food, James, why don't you and Ron start setting the table?"

"Yessir!" Jimmy said, bringing his hand to his forehead in a military salute. Peter rolled his eyes.

They had a very large, typical American breakfast. It wasn't so different from what Ron was used to, except there were tons of pancakes, and muffins, and he'd never tasted maple syrup before. Then they moved to the parlour, where a huge pile of presents, of all forms, sizes and wrapping styles waited for them under the Christmas tree. Ron immediately grabbed two identical oddly shaped parcels and threw one to Jimmy.

"Those arrived this morning with the post," Peter explained as Jimmy eyed the gift perplexed. "The poor owl was exhausted. I feared he would have a heart attack..."

"They're from my parents," Ron explained. "I think Mum made you a Weasley sweater." He had ripped open the wrapping of his own parcel and taken out a hand-knitten maroon sweater with a huge yellow letter R on the front. He looked at it disgusted. When would his mother learn that he hated maroon?!

Jimmy opened his. The sweater was in red and gold stripes, the Gryffindor colours. It was really beautiful and looked so warm and comfortable. He smiled as he put it on. "It was very kind of her, she didn't have to."

Ron shrugged. "It's a thanksgiving for your hospitality, I suppose."

They went on unwrapping presents. Ron had given Jimmy a Deluxe box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Jimmy a huge pack of Chocolate Frogs in turn. They both received a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ from Hermione, and a little booklet with a black leather cover from Neville.

"Longbottom needs a visit with a good brain Healer..." Ron commented, turning the booklet over in his hand. But Jimmy was reading the note attached to it and he was smiling brightly.

_Dear Jimmy,_

_this is a secret-messages diary. I sent one to Ron (but you probably already know, since he's there at your home right now) and Hermione as well._

_If any of us writes something on his copy, the message will appear on the other three's. It also is enchanted so nobody but the owner will be able to read anything on it. This way, if you have to insult Snape during lessons, you won't risk to get caught._

_Have a nice Christmas! See you tomorrow!_

_Neville.  
_   
"Oh, Nev!" he exclaimed, excitedly.

Then finally Jimmy took the gift from his father. It was a long and thin parcel, roughly wrapped up in thick brown paper. Jimmy had a vague idea what it must've been before unwrapping it. "Dad..." he tried to protest, giving him a sort of reproachful look.

"Just open it," Peter answered waving his hand dismissively.

Jimmy did as told and sure enough he found a beautiful new broomstick, the handle in lucid ash wood and the tail in long and sleek, even if not perfectly straight, twigs.

"I wanted to buy you a Nimbus... But they are so expensive, and with the costs for the house and everything else..."

"Wow, is it really a Comet 260? The best I've ever ridden is a Cleansweep Five... Nicked it from George once... He didn't take it well, but I'd prefer not to talk about it... May I take a ride?"

Jimmy didn't even register Ron's gibber in the background, he was too busy staring disbelievingly at his father. He must've spent... well, not a fortune, but quite a fair amount of money just to buy him a broomstick and he was apologizing because it wasn't the best model on the market? Was he crazy?

* 

Jimmy looked nervously as Peter knocked at the front door of the Potters.

A few seconds passed, then a beautiful woman with red, wavy hair and emerald green eyes opened the door and gave them all a bright smile.

"Hello, Peter! So glad you came!" she exclaimed cheerfully. Then turned to the two boys. "And so you're Jimmy..."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Potter," he said politely shaking her hand, trying very hard to banish from his mind thoughts like _this woman might be my mother_.

"Nice to meet you, too. Instead, you are..."

"Ron Weasley, Madam," Ron answered, shaking her hand in turn.

"He's a friend of Jimmy's. He's spending the Holidays with us. Hope it's not too much trouble if I brought him too..." Peter said.

"Of course not, no trouble at all. The more the better, I'd say. Dor will be delighted."

_Now, who in the name of Merlin is Dor?_ Jimmy wondered as he stepped into the house.

The parlour was spacious and elegant, not so different in structure from the one in Jimmy's new house. Conversely to it, though, this had the obvious look of having been lived in for a long time. There where paintings on the walls, and a huge bookcase filled in old and fragile looking volumes as well as modern books in pocket edition. The couch was slightly sunken in the spots where people probably used to seat and the little table in front of it carried a bowl of candies ad a couple of old newspapers. Over a very large and elegant fireplace stood a line of framed photographs. A couple of Mr and Mrs Potter as teenagers, surrounded by friends. One of a large and strangely assorted group of people, including the Potters, some of the Hogwarts' teachers and a couple that reminded Jimmy quite a lot of Neville. One of the Potters' marriage, Mrs Potter smiling radiant in her gorgeous white dress, her arm entwined with her husband's, who seemed unable to decide if he was more happy or astounded. Then a long series of a little girl with red hair and hazel eyes at different stages of her young life, sometimes in company of one of the Potters or with a handsome black-haired man or a sandy-haired and a bit unhealthy looking one. That must've been Dor, the Potters' daughter, Jimmy realized.

But it was one picture that mostly caught his eyes. In that picture, that was a bit behind the others, so that it didn't catch the eye, were the two Potters with a child who could've been only a few months old and who was practically Mr Potter's miniature. The child was laughing and clapping his hands happily, while the two adults looked at him with incommensurate love. Mrs Potter kissed the top of his head and Mr Potter took the little arm of the child and waved at whoever had taken the photograph. Then the scene replayed from the beginning. Jimmy was still staring intently at the picture, when an acute voice resounded in his ears. "Hi!"

Here was the girl from the pictures. It was impressive how petite she looked, Jimmy felt a giant in comparison.

"Hello," he said, sounding not even half as enthusiastic as her.

She hugged him tightly, which felt horribly awkward, and did the same with Ron, whose helpless expression made Jimmy chuckle. "Come!" she exclaimed then, taking Jimmy's hand in hers. "I want to go play outside!"

Jimmy let her drag him out in the garden. She kept talking non stop about her parents, and her Godfather, and some kids who lived in the neighbourhood with whom she played sometimes, and her new broomstick, and her favourite Quidditch team, and a thousand other things. Jimmy's head was spinning in the attempt to follow her unconnected stream of words. "And do you have a broomstick? A good one? Sirius said he'll buy me a Nimbus 2000 when I'll be old enough! I really hope I'll enter the Gryffindor Quidditch team when I'll be at Hogwarts! Dad says I'm great at flying, that they would be dumb not to pick me for the team. Which House are you in, by the way? How is Hogwarts? Are lessons hard? Can I see your wand?"

Jimmy heard Ron chuckle from behind him. He wished Ron was the one bombarded with questions. He wondered if Ron's little sister was like that, too; he decided he didn't want to find out. Fortunately he was saved by Mrs Potter calling them all inside for lunch.

Jimmy greeted Mr Potter who winked at him and asked in a low voice and a sort of conspiratorial tone, "So, did you manage to stay out of trouble?" Then he was introduced to the other guests, the two men he'd noticed in the photos over the fireplace, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, a woman with brown hair and eyes and a kind smile named Mary Macdonald and another woman with strawberry blonde hair, wearing a Muggle sports outfit, who introduced herself as Lydia Murray.

“And so, you are magicians too?” she asked Jimmy and Ron, sounding curious and confident at the same time. The two boys exchanged a perplexed look.

“You mean wizards, honey,” Ms Macdonald corrected her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Jimmy and Ron exchanged another perplexed look, while Ms Murray pointed to the photos on the fireplace, excited. “Look, Mary! The pictures are moving!”

Finally they sat down at the table and Jimmy's stomach gave a gurgling at the sight and delicious smell of all the food. Mr Potter was at the head table and he was talking to Jimmy's dad who nodded on his left. Mrs Potter, on the right of his husband, was engaged in a heated discussion over Muggle politics with Ms Murray while Ms Macdonald just followed in silence. On Peter's left Mr Black and Mr Lupin were laughing hysterically, Jimmy had no idea what about.

Jimmy, Ron and Dorea sat together at the side of the table opposite to Mr Potter. Mostly they just enjoyed their food quietly but from time to time Dorea, after checking carefully that her mother wasn't paying attention, would launch peas at Jimmy with her fork. Jimmy would scowl at her annoyed, but that would just make her giggle.

They were at the dessert and the adults were all listening to Mr Lupin who was recounting some episode which, judging from the expressions of Mr Potter and Mr Black, seemed to be quite amusing.

"And then I told him, _Well, there's no reason to look at me like that. I don't bite, you know?_ You should've seen his face, it was priceless!"

Mr Potter and Mr Black burst out laughing, while Mrs Potter rolled her eyes, but let a little chuckle escape her lips as well. Ms Macdonald was giggling so hard she had tears in her eyes and she didn't even notice Ms Murray's attempts to ask her for an explaination. Jimmy's father seemed pretty confused too, but Jimmy had noticed his lips curving upwards for a fraction of second in an amused smile. He turned to Ron perplexed, and Ron returned his glance shrugging.

Only after they'd all concluded their meal with the traditional pudding, Jimmy spoke up and asked what had been spinning through his mind for all that time. "So, do you have any other children, aside Dorea?"

Everyone went still. It felt like time itself had stopped. There was such an intense and unnatural silence Jimmy was even scared to breathe. Then, very slowly, nine pairs of eyes fixed themselves on him, filled with shock, disbelief and worry.

"And what exactly," Mr Potter said slowly, painstakingly, "makes you think that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, hope you are enjoying the story so far! :)  
> Feedback is very much appreciated, so if you have a moment to spare let me know what you think! :)  
> Snowball hug,  
> Chiara


	11. Theories and apologies

Peter fixed his glance on his son in disbelief. Why on earth was he asking such a question? There was no way he knew about his connection to the Potters, was there? Jimmy had the decency to appear slightly embarrassed with all the diners staring at him astonished, yet that didn't stop him from replying.

"Well, there was this photograph of a baby boy on the shelf over the fireplace. I was wondering who he was. He looked a lot like you, Mr. Potter, and from the way you and your wife were acting in the picture I would've sworn he was your son. But since he's clearly not here..."

Peter didn't like the fold the conversation was taking, he didn't like the icy atmosphere suddenly fallen over the table, and he definitely didn't like his son's stinging attitude. "James. Now stop. You're being rude," he reprimanded sternly.

Jimmy did stop, but glared at his father defiantly. Peter found that he couldn't sustain his glance. He diverted his eyes and met the glance of Remus, who for some reason was looking at him suspiciously. Peter felt a weird yet familiar sensation, like butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He forced himself to look reproachfully at his son again.

"Don't get all worked up, Peter. It's fine," James Potter said, posing a hand on his shoulder, trying to sound unabashed. Then he turned to Jimmy. "Yes, you're right. That was our son."

"Was? You mean he's dead?" Jimmy asked surprised.

Peter jumped on his feet. "James!" he exclaimed outraged.

"No, he's not dead... I mean, I hope... I can't be sure..."

"How can you not be sure if your son is-"

"He was kidnapped!" James' voice raised in frustration and he slammed his napkin on the table. Jimmy winced. Peter felt the need to break the tension.

"Oh, James, Lily. It's horrible. I'm so sorry," he whispered quietly, but it sounded as loud as a shout in the thick silence.

He meant it. He was sorry. He was the only one to know that James and Lily's son was right there, before their eyes. But they couldn't know, he couldn't tell them, he couldn't risk his freedom, Jimmy's safety and happiness, the family bond he'd so laboriously built. What game was Jimmy playing, anyway?

"Kidnapped? When? Why? How? By who?" Jimmy asked, and Peter was so shocked that he was still insisting that he didn't find the energy to reprimand him again.

"An old friend of mine. Or at least I thought he was. I really don't want to keep talking about it."

Something in Mr Potter's tone suggested to Jimmy that he'd gone too far. He looked around the rest of the table. Mrs Potter's face was streaked with tears and Ms McDonald was rubbing her back soothingly. Mr Black and Mr Lupin were looking at each other with concerned expressions, while Ms Murray stared at her hands, obviously mortified. His father was looking at him in pure shock, like he couldn't believe what had just happened, and Jimmy could feel Ron and Dorea staring at him in pretty much the same fashion.

"Sorry, Sir... I didn't mean to upset you... I was just curious..." he said in a low voice.

Mr Potter forced a smile on his face with fatigue. "Apology accepted. Now, anyone for a snifter of Firewhiskey?"

*

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy sighed and opened the curtains around his bed then turned to face Ron who was lying on his flank staring at him with worry. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

Jimmy simply shrugged.

"You don't really think... you know... you don't think that your father kidnapped you, do you?"

"I don't know, Ron. No, I can't imagine my father doing something like that. Still... The only time we actually spoke about my past, he said he _made some horrid mistakes when he was younger_ , whatever that means. He also said he wasn't going to tell me the truth because he _couldn't put that weight on my shoulder just yet_. It would all make perfect sense, if he actually kidnapped me from my real parents... But if that is the case, why?"

"Maybe it's not what he meant at all. Maybe this is all just a coincidence," Ron said, trying to sound heartening.

"Yeah, maybe," Jimmy replied unconvinced.

Ron really wanted to add something more, but nothing came to mind. He heaved a sigh. "Well, goodnight, Jimmy."

"Night, Ron."

Ron was snoring mere seconds after, but Jimmy's mind refused to shut off. He shifted in his bed for what felt like hours, before finally falling in a troubled, restless sleep.

*

_I'd say it could make sense._

It was the afternoon of boxing day, and Jimmy and Ron were sitting on Neville's bed in his bedroom. They'd recounted him what they'd discovered the previous day about the Potters, and now they were writing on Neville's secret-messages diary to hear Hermione's opinion on the matter.

_What does it mean, it could make sense? You think my father actually kidnapped me?_

Jimmy had written it so quickly and nervously his handwriting was nearly illegible. Hermione must've noticed, because her next words were

_Calm down, James. I'm only saying we shouldn't exclude that hypothesis._

_Well, I'd really love to excl_

The handwriting suddenly changed to Neville's

_Why do you say it makes sense?_

There was quite a long pause before Hermione started writing again.

_Remember when you asked why Jimmy would resemble Mr Portman so much, even if he's not really his son? There are a lot of magical ways to change people's physical appearance. I checked in the Library and found quite a bit of material on the subject. Charms to change your eye and hair colour or to make you look younger or older. Potions to take the appearance of another person. And there is an entire branch of Transfiguration which deals with this sort of things. If your dad kidnapped you, Jimmy, then that would explain why he'd use this sort of charms on you._

_I wish you weren't so log_

"Hey!" Jimmy protested as Neville snatched the diary from him again.

_But why would Mr Portman kidnap Jimmy?_

_I don't know why exactly, but I've been doing a bit of research about that, too. I'd planned to tell you once we were back at Hogwarts, but since we're on it... I found this article on an old copy of the Prophet. Around a month before you destroyed You-Know-Who, a Death Eater called Peter Pettigrew kidnapped this child called Harry Potter. The Auror Department searched for them everywhere but they were never found. That's pretty much all that I've managed to discover._

Neville looked concernedly at Jimmy, who was looking in the void, while his lips moved spelling alternatively the names Peter Pettigrew and Harry Potter, without a sound coming out of them.

"Jim... You okay?" he asked tentatively.

"A Death Eater? My father is a bloody... Death... EATER?!" he shouted, so loud Ron and Neville both jumped.

"We don't know that," Ron insisted. To him, it sounded all absurd. Even if some maniac Peter Something-or-other had kidnapped Potter's son, why had it to be Jimmy? Okay, there were a few coincidences, that was undeniable. But to him it still felt preposterous that they would jump to conclusions that way...

_Hey, you all still there?_

_Yes, Granger. We're here. Honestly, don't you think you've been ruffling feathers for nothing?_

_Always so charming, Ronald. Sorry, guys. I have to go, now. Mum is calling. I'll write again this evening._

_Ok, Herm. Thanks. Bye._

"I still think it's a mountain of rubbish," Ron declared, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"But according to the Sorting Hat, my real surname is Potter. And my father's name is Peter. And he did move to America more or less the time Hermione was talking about. And he's got too friendly with the Potters too soon, he isn't the type of person that makes friends easily, it does seem like he already knew them. And the fact that I look like him..."

"So now you're sure that's what happened? All of a sudden?"

"It all fits too perfectly... The only thing I still can't get is, why?"

"Maybe I should ask Gran. If Mr Potter actually knew my parents, then maybe she knows something."

"Won't it look suspicious?"

"I'm a Slytherin. I know how to ask for information without being too obvious."

"Sometimes I wish I were a Slytherin too..." Jimmy commented with a point of envy.

"I bet," Neville countered, rolling his eyes.

*

That evening at dinner Jimmy and Ron were particularly untalkative and that scared Peter a little. He used to understand his son, used to guess his thoughts and needs before he even became aware of them. Since he'd started Hogwarts everything had changed. Peter's heart ached anytime he thought how distant his son was growing from him.

"Is anything wrong, Jimmy? You know you can tell me everything."

"Oh, really? And you?" Jimmy snapped.

Peter noticed Ron arching his eyebrows and Jimmy giving him a defiant look in response. They stared at each other for what felt an eternity. In the end Ron seemed to win their silent argument, whatever it was about. Jimmy huffed annoyed and hastily stirred his soup with his spoon, apparently with no intention to eat it.

Peter wanted to ask some more, to reprimand his son for his attitude, but he restrained himself. He had the strange feeling it would lead to places he didn't really want to go. He sighed, wondering for the millionth time if it had been a good idea to come back to England at all.

*

"It still lacks something..." Jimmy said meditatively, as he looked at the snowman he'd been making with Ron and Dorea's aid in the garden.

"I know what's missing!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "The nose! Do you have any carrots, perhaps?"

"Dunno, ask my dad."

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute."

Ron disappeared inside the house, leaving Jimmy and Dorea alone. She'd come to play with them a few times in the last days, but Jimmy had never remained alone with her and he was feeling slightly queasy at the prospect.

"So..." he started cautiously, without meeting her eyes. "Are your Mom and Dad still angry at me?"

"I don't think so," she said earnestly, while straightening the sprig they'd used as arm for the snowman. "Why did you ask all those questions about Harry, anyway?"

This time he actually met her glance. Something had changed in her tone, she sounded a lot older than she actually was.

"Just curious, it's all."

She looked at him skeptically and he gave her a sheepish smile.

"What do you know about it all, anyway? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Not much more than you do. Mum and Dad don't talk about it much. Although..."

"Although?"

She swiped her right foot back and forth, making a furrow in the snow. "Well... It's just... They are a bit worried recently. I shouldn't know, because I shouldn't have been listening, but apparently there are people saying..."

"Saying what?"

"Saying Pettigrew is back."

Jimmy felt suddenly sick. What if Pettigrew really was back? What if he was right in the house behind them?

"Who's Pettigrew?" he asked, pretending to be confused.

"The man who kidnapped my brother. He used to be friends with Dad, Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus. But then he turned to You-Know-Who and betrayed them. It's another thing Dad doesn't like to talk about, but Uncle Remus has talked to me about him a few times."

"What has he told you? And why did Pettigrew kidnap your brother? Did he do it on Voldemort's orders? What happened to them?"

She looked at him in a funny way when he said Voldemort's name, not like she was scared, more surprised. She didn't comment on it, anyway.

"You ask a lot of questions, Jimmy Portman," she said instead, with a vague reproach.

"Yes, I know. Sorry."

"Anyway, no."

Jimmy looked at her without understanding. "No, what?"

"He didn't kidnap my brother on Voldemort's orders. Quite the contrary, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Voldemort wanted to kill my brother. And don't ask why, I don't know. Then Pettigrew had a..." She made a grimace. "Last repentance. He took my brother before Voldemort could come after him."

"So, he saved him?"

"If you like to put it that way..."

Jimmy did. It was still an horrible thought to think that his father might've torn him away from his family, but it was loads better to think he did it to protect him from a crazy murderer, rather than for doing said crazy murderer's will. He didn't really know what to say next, so he was relieved when Ron reappeared a few moments later.

"I think your dad went out, I didn't find him," he said once he rejoined them. "But... I found this!" And with a satisfied smile he embed the orange root he'd retrieved in the middle of the snowman's face.

"Much better," Jimmy commented appreciatively.

*

Coalfell hadn't changed at all in the last ten years. Everything looked exactly like he remembered, the same ordered alleyway, the same squared houses lined one after the other, each one surrounded by the same freshly painted fence.

Also the house right in front of him had remained the same, with its cobbled walkway, its wooden front door, its floral patterned tendrils at the kitchen's window. Even the old swing was still there, hanging from the same old apple tree's branch. Peter felt a stab of nostalgia at the sight.

He carefully opened the gate, which creaked a bit in the process, and advanced slowly towards the entrance door. He gave a quick knock, then started pacing nervously in front of the door, as he waited for someone to answer.

"I don't release interviews. Go away," a woman's voice said from inside.

"I'm not a reporter," Peter replied with a tone that was frustrated, fearful and pleading all at the same time.

He heard the sound of multiple lock clicks, and finally the door opened revealing a petite, old woman, with candid hair pulled up in a tight chignon and way too many wrinkles on her face and around her watery blue eyes.

Mary Pettigrew studied diffidently the unknown man for a while, as he stared back at her with concern and sadness. There was something familiar about him, even if she couldn't exactly tell what. Then she noticed the way he was nervously swaying back and forth, while tapping the side of his legs with his fingers, and something clicked in her memory.

"Peter?" she asked quietly, disbelievingly. He didn't have the time to reply, because she immediately shut the door on his face.

"Mum!" he exclaimed, as he started beating loudly at the door once again. "Please, let me in! Let me explain!"

She reopened the door, roughly, but allowed him to get inside. "Explain what?" she asked harshly, as she closed the door again behind them and moved towards the kitchen, without looking at him.

He followed her, then sat down at the kitchen table, at the spot he used to occupy as a kid, and looked as his mother put the kettle on the stove. "I'm sorry..." was all he managed to say.

She huffed. "Sorry, are you? And do you think that covers it?"

"No, not quite... But it's the better I have to offer."

She sighed as she sat down as well. Then she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "Oh, Peter, my son... What should I do with you?"

"I don't know."

They were distracted by the water boiling. Peter put a hand on his mother's arm to stop her from getting up and went himself to take care of the tea.

"You've changed, that's for sure," she said quietly, once he put in front of her a fuming cup filled with the amber coloured liquid and sat down again.

"I've grown up," he said simply. "I'm a father, now."

She looked at him quizzically, then she nodded once. "How is he?"

"Jimmy? He's fine."

"Jimmy?"

"I meant Harry..." He paused, stirring his tea absent-mindedly, his glare lost in the void. Then he suddenly added, "Well, not really that fine, since we came back to England. He misses his old home. And he's discovered I'm not his real father, and that's making things harder. I fear he knows more than he's letting on... or suspects, at least."

"Where have you been?"

"America."

"So far away..."

"I'm sorry." That seemed to be his recurrent line recently. Guilt, his constant company, his closest and most faithful friend.

"Did you know James had another child?" he asked suddenly, more to change the subject than anything else.

"I'm aware, yes," his mother answered coldly. He looked at her astounded.

"You knew about Dorea? How?"

"You're not the only one who has friends. I happen to still be in touch with Silvia."

"Silvia? Silvia Lupin?"

She didn't seem to hear his question, as she went on sadly. "Not so much anymore, to be true... Not since she..."

"Since she?"

"Never mind. You, instead. How do you know?"

"I live in Godric's Hollow now."

"You live _where?_ "

He muttered something she couldn't make out. She only managed to catch a few words like _house_ , _Jimmy_ , _Potters_ and _occasion_. She shook her head in disbelief. "Why did you come back at all?"

"I wanted Jimmy to study at Hogwarts."

"I thought a lot of things about you, but I never thought you were stupid."

"Thanks a lot, Mum."

She couldn't help but smile at his sudden peevishness. She tentatively reached out to stroke his hair. Despite his age and his different appearance, it was still as soft and vaporous as it used to be.

"Mum..."

"Yes?"

"I never meant to deceive you."

"Oh, Peter!" She hugged him tightly, finally allowing tears to stream from her eyes, and Peter realized in that moment, shockingly, that despite everything she still loved him. So what they said about parental love being eternal and unconditional was true. He should've known, since he'd experienced that same kind of love first hand, for his Jimmy. He would've done anything for him, given his own life for him, something he'd never been prepared to do for anyone else.

When his mother finally let him go, her eyes still bright from crying but her tears subsided, she looked straight in his eyes and asked seriously "Why did you do that?"

"You know why. I had to. The Dark L- You-Know-Who would've killed all three of them if I didn't take Ha-"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about before."

His right hand automatically went to clutch his left forearm. All the glamour charms he'd put on himself could conceal it from sight, but his Dark Mark was still there, faintly but constantly prickling, reminding him of all his horrible mistakes.

"Merlin, Mum!" he cried, jumping on his feet, as all the anger and frustration and self-loathing that had been accumulating inside him and never vented for years finally burst out. "I was a kid! I was scared, and helpless, and..."

"Peter," she murmured softly, standing up too and trying to put a hand on his shoulder. He shook her away.

"Don't. Just... don't." With difficulty he met her gaze again. "You need to understand. You don't know what it means. A boy barely in his twenties, frightened, with no self-esteem cause no one ever showed esteem for him."

"I had esteem for you," she protested weakly. He went on like she hadn't talked at all.

"Put him in front of the prospect of dying. Kidnap him. Torture him. Menace everything he holds most dear. What do you think would happen? What did you all expect from me? I've never been as strong and brave as James, Sirius and Remus were. I tried to resist, Mum. I swear I did. It was just too much for me to handle. I wanted to live, I had nothing else."

"Oh, Pete!" she exclaimed once again. She put her arms around him and held him tight and this time he didn't try to avoid the contact. He returned her hug, holding into her as if for dear life, grateful that there still was at least one person in the world who was able to love him just the way he was.


	12. In death of Silvia Lupin

"It honestly bothers me a little."

Sirius gave his friend a perplexed look, while the latter took a sip of his butterbeer absent-mindedly. "What does?"

Before Remus could answer, the pub's door opened and two identical boys with fiery red hair stormed inside. Sirius and Remus followed the two with their glances as they boldly made their way to the counter.

"Hello, Rosmerta. What's up?" one of the boys greeted. The barmaid surveyed them severely.

"Fred and George Weasley. You little scoundrels. What do you think you're doing away from the school?"

"Saying hello to the most enchanting bartender of Hogsmeade, obviously," the second boy answered with a flirtatious smile.

Madam Rosmerta shooed them away, not before providing them with a case of butterbeers, and then went to the two Marauders' table. "I swear. Those two are more of troublemakers than you were at their age," she said stiffly, nodding towards the door.

"More of troublemakers than we were? Rosmerta, my dear, how can this even be possible?"

She seemed to consider it, then shook her head. "No, I suppose you're right. No one could ever rival with you. Now, can I get you gentlemen anything else?"

"Oh, no. I'm alright, Rosmerta. Thank you so much," Remus replied amiably.

"Some more hydromel, please," Sirius asked instead.

"Alright, I'll be back in a sec."

"Sirius, aren't you exaggerating a bit?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius waved a hand in his direction dismissively. "Ah, Moony! You don't know how to have fun!"

"Yeah, maybe..." Remus said slowly, while Rosmerta moved towards their table again. She posed a huge mug of hydromel in front of Sirius, then left again. Sirius took a long sip, then licked his lips, satisfied. "What were you saying, anyway? What's bothering you?"

"That Portman boy,” Remus replied meditatively. “His father too, for all it's worth. All those questions about Harry... It was weird."

"He was just curious. A bit impudent, and callous, but I didn't find it weird."

"It didn't seem like mere curiosity to me. It actually reminded me a lot of..." Remus trailed off, and Sirius huffed in annoyance. He hated it when Remus didn't finish a sentence. "Reminded you of what?" he prompted.

Remus blushed a little. "Of when you guys were trying to get me to confess... my furry little problem."

"How so?" Sirius asked surprised.

"Well... You didn't exactly want an answer, because you already knew what was going on. What you really wanted was a confirmation. And you knew that you were hurting me with your insistence, but you insisted anyway, because you knew I would be better afterwards, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"And I did feel better afterwards," Remus added, with a small, tentative smile. "But my point is, the way that Portman boy insisted... It seemed like he wanted to prove a theory or something. It seemed like it was a personal matter, not just curiosity."

Sirius gave Remus an unconvinced look. "If you say so..."

Remus sighed and rubbed his forehead. He felt old, and tired. Surely, that was a side-effect of his lycanthropy, his condition caused him to feel debilitated and drained of energy, plus gave him early signs of aging. But this tiredness had more to do with his latest troubles than it had to do with being a werewolf.

"You seem a bit off," Sirius said, like he'd been reading his mind. "What's going on, mate?"

Remus sighed again. "Mum," he replied simply.

"What?! You said she was getting better!"

"Yes. That's what I thought. Or better, that's what I made myself believe. But I talked to Healer Matthews this morning. He said they've done the best they could... he said she's got three weeks left, at most."

"Three weeks left?" Sirius asked, like he was trying to grasp a concept too complex for him to understand.

"She's dying, Sirius."

"W-what?"

"She's dying," Remus repeated, his eyes bright with tears, but his voice steady and calm. "But it's alright. I'm alright. It's just something that was supposed to happen..."

Before he knew it, Remus found himself engulfed in Sirius' hug. At first he was so astonished he just remained paralyzed, then he returned the hug, overwhelmed by gratitude. "Thanks, Padfoot," he whispered softly, then allowed himself to sob into his best friend's shoulder.

*

It had been almost a week since Peter had come, and Mary had had a lot to think over since his visit.

She'd spent the last ten years hiding from the world, ashamed her son, of what he'd done. But seeing him again, seeing the man he'd become, seeing his efforts in fixing his mistakes had filled her with renewed pride for him, even if he was still far from actually remedy to said mistakes and even if his actions seemed totally crazy.

His visit also made her realize how petty she'd become herself. Silvia was the only person who'd remained by her side all along, still Mary had abandoned her in the time of most need. How could she have been so selfish? But she could still remedy to that, and it was long past time she did, too.

The reception of St. Mungo's Hospital was a mess of people carrying the signs of all sorts of magical and not accidents and injuries and Healers running up and down between them with potion vials and medical records. Mary jostled through the crowd to reach the information desk.

She patiently waited for her turn, carefully avoiding eye-contact with everyone. The fact she'd finally found the courage to leave her self imposed seclusion didn't mean she wanted anyone to recognize her.

"Next!" the blonde witch at the desk called bored and Mary timidly advanced.

"Hello. I'm here for a visit. Could you kindly tell me where could I find Silvia Lupin, please?"

The young woman's expression softened into a little sad smile. "Oh, Mrs. Lupin, sure... Second floor, ward twenty-nine."

"Thank you."

Again Mary made her way through the crowd in the opposing direction. She climbed the stairs to the second floor and finally reached the door of ward twenty-nine. There she stopped for a moment, hesitant. How would Silvia react at her sight? What was she going to even tell her? She let go a breath she didn't know she was holding, then stepped inside the room.

Silvia laid in the bed at the bottom. She was so thin and pale she was hardly recognizable. It wrenched Mary's heart to see her like that.

"Hey, Silvia..." she said softly, carefully taking her hand in hers.

Silvia smiled, even if it clearly required her great effort. Her amber eyes, still so full of pain and fatigue, shined with something that resembled happiness and that brought a smile on Mary's lips, too, even if she was tempted to cry instead.

"Mary... I missed you..."

Mary tried to ignore the stab of guilt she felt at those words, and tried to ignore the tremour and weakness in Silvia's voice as well. "How are you?" she asked, then cursed herself for the silly and tactless question. Silvia didn't seem to mind, though. "Not so bad."

"You little, brave, Gryffindor liar!" Mary exclaimed through a chuckle. Was she really chuckling? What was wrong with her?

"Better a Gryffindor liar than a Slytherin pain in the butt."

"Shut up, De Stefani!" Mary exclaimed rolling her eyes. It was Silvia's turn to chuckle.

"De Stefani... No one has called me that in... I don't know in how much time..." She coughed, violently, and it made her shake all over. Mary felt all the blood drawn from her face. "Shh. Stop talking. You're overstraining yourself."

"Oh, nonsense. Can you pass me that glass of water, please?"

Mary took the glass, than sustained her friend's back as she drank.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, but it was okay that way. For Mary it was enough to be there for her friend, holding her hand and caressing her sandy, fading hair.

"Yaxley..." Silvia called softly at a certain point. Mary rolled her eyes again at the use of her maiden name. Yet she couldn't complain, she'd asked for it when she called her De Stefani. "What?"

"What time is it?"

Mary took a glimpse at her watch. "Half past four."

"Remus is late today," Silvia murmured, turning to look towards the window, as if she expected to see her son appear there at any moment. Mary reached out to put a lock of her hair behind her ear. "He must've had some setback. I'm sure he'll be here soon," she replied softly.

Silvia turned to face her again. "Will you do me a favour, Mary?"

"Of course. Whatever you need."

"When he arrives... Tell him that I love him... Will you?" Her tone was serene. Relaxed, if it wasn't for her tiredness. But the words scared Mary to no end. It sounded like a last wish, and Mary was not prepared for that.

"You'll tell him yourself once he's here!" she exclaimed, with more force than was probably necessary.

Silvia shook her head slowly, then met her friend's gaze, her little smile still present on her lips. That was when Mary couldn't refrain her tears anymore. "You can't die. You can't just die now. I've just come to see you," she protested weakly.

"It's not like I have a choice," Silvia answered, still smiling. "Besides, John is waiting for me."

Mary noticed with a shock that Silvia's voice hadn't quivered once when saying those last few words. Also her grip on Mary's hand had strengthened. Maybe Silvia wasn't actually dying, after all. Maybe she was getting better.

"You know, I thought I'd never see you again."

Mary lowered her gaze. "Yes... I'm sorry... I've been a horrible friend..."

"Was it Peter who made you change your mind?"

"How do you-"

"I'm a mother too."

"Yes, it was him."

Silvia nodded. Then she suddenly emitted a gasp, like she was choking on something.

"Silvia!" Mary screamed. "Silvia! What's wrong? Talk to me! Look at me! Silvia!"

But Silvia had fallen on her back again, and now she was lying, unmoving, her eyes wide opened but unseeing, her hand inert in her friend's. Panic filled Mary with the strength of raging sea. She jumped to her feet and burst out the ward, screaming for help. A group of four Healers came running and gathered around Silvia's bed. But all they could do was to acknowledge the death.

Remus arrived right in that moment. He didn't need more than a quick glimpse to understand what had happened. "NO!" he shouted, and his voice sounded horrible in his own ears.

He ran to his mother's bedside, pretty much ignoring everything and everyone else. He took her lifeless body in his arms and hugged her tightly, as silent tears streamed down his cheeks. "Mum... No... Please, come back... Come back to me..."

Mary carefully approached him and posed a hand on his shoulder. "Remus..."

He turned to her and anger blazed in his eyes. "You! What are you doing here! You have no right... Have no business..."

Mary ignored his words, even if they hurt. She knew he wouldn't say them if he wasn't so anguished. "For all it's worth, she was prepared. She asked me to tell you that she loved you."

Remus needed some moments to register the words. The fact that his mother knew she was dying and accepted it was comforting, in a way. Suddenly he felt guilty about his earlier outburst. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. I think I deserved it, anyway."

"Thank you... for... you know... being here..."

"Oh, Remus! You silly child!" she exclaimed, crying and laughing at the same time, and engulfed him in a tight hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this update came so late... I promise I will try to be quicker next time...
> 
> As always, if you have any thoughts about the story so far, I would be delighted to hear them, so feel free to leave me a little review, it would make me extremely happy!
> 
> Love you!


	13. An unexpected guest

King's Cross was as crowded as ever. Peter and the two kids struggled to make their way among loud families on vacation and businessmen in suit and tie, all the time receiving odd looks because of the bulky trunks and Hedwig hooting in her cage. The staring didn't bother the three much, though; only a few moments later they were safely on Platform 9 3/4, surrounded by tons of other bulky trunks and hooting owls. It wasn't any less crowded than the Muggle side of the station.

"Can you see Nev or Hermione?" Jimmy asked Ron, as he scanned the place for a glimpse of his other two friends in the sea of young witches and wizards. Ron shook his head, he wasn't having any more luck than Jimmy in finding the other kids.

“Maybe we should-” Jimmy started, indicating a random direction through the crowd, but he was interrupted by a sudden exclamation behind them. "Here you are!"

Both kids jumped startled and turned to the new voice. Jimmy's hand was pressed on his heart, beating at double speed for the scare. "I swear to Merlin, Neville Longbottom! Next time you just spring up on our backs this way, I'll kill you!"

"Hello, Neville. Happy to meet you again. How are you?" Peter intervened before any bickering could start, extending his hand towards Neville.

"Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Portman. Thank you." While Neville's tone was polite and his lips were curved up in a smile, Jimmy noticed a slight reluctance in the handshake and he wondered what was the reason for it. Peter seemed to notice too because he let go very quickly and gave out an embarrassed cough. Neville turned to his friends again and said in a quick and low conspiratorial voice, "We need to talk. Go fetch Hermione, I'll find a compartment." And after that he disappeared on the train, just as quickly and suddenly as he'd appeared a few moments before.

"Well, he surely is a little sneaky guy, isn't he? Wonder where he left his damned oozy pet."

"Oh, Ron. Shut up," Jimmy replied with an eyeroll.

"Well, kids... I really should go, now," Peter said.

Jimmy turned his attention fully to his father. "Dad..." he started uncertain. He wanted to ask him again about his true parents. He wanted to ask what he knew about Peter Pettigrew, just to test his reaction. There were a million things spinning through his mind, but voicing them was another question entirely.

"What?" Peter asked, with equal uncertainty.

"I'm going to miss you!" was all Jimmy managed to say, and he threw his arms around his father's waist, holding tightly into him.

"Oh, I doubt you'll have the time to miss me," Peter said with a little laugh, while shuffling his son's brown hair. "Stay out of trouble, alright? Try not to fall off your broom or anything like that. And write home from time to time...” he loosened the hug to look at him straight in the eyes. “Promise me you will write," he said seriously.

Jimmy nodded solemnly. "I promise."

"Good. Now, off you go, you two. It's getting late."

The two kids scampered off and Peter shook his head in bewilderment. Then he focused on his new Destination and Disapparated.

*

Once again, he crossed the cobbled walkway, and once again he couldn't help but let out a nostalgic sigh as he stepped by the swing rocking slightly in the wind.

His mother wasn't as reluctant to open the door and let him in as she'd been the previous time. She smiled warmly and squeezed him in a hug, then led him to the kitchen and started rummaging at the stove.

"Don't overstress yourself, Mum. I'm alright."

"Oh, nonsense! Would you really want to deprive a poor mother of the delight of taking care of her only son?"

"You weren't so delighted last time," he commented bitterly. He felt his cheeks blush at her reproachful glare.

"Now you listen to me, Peter Sebastian Pettigrew! You sit down and let me make up for the time _you_ made me lose disappearing from the earth's face for _ten_ years!"

"Mum..."

"What?" she asked defiantly, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," he muttered embarassed, avoiding her stern stare.

For a bit they just sipped at their tea in silence. Mary kept glancing at her son, trying to imagine how he would've looked if he actually looked like himself. He was undeniably handsome in his new aspect, and probably many women would agree that he was a lot more fascinating this way. But for her motherly heart, no charmed appearance would ever make him as beautiful as he naturally was.

"So, how was the funeral?" he asked suddenly, breaking her train of thought.

"Just like any funeral..." she answered after a moment hesitation. "Sad."

"Well, but..."

"And moving. The celebrant's words were really thoughtful and sweet. And Remus' speech was just so..." Her voice faltered and she passed the back of her hand on her eyes to wipe away her tears. "I'm sure Silvia appreciated it, wherever she is..." she added, and managed a tiny smile. "You should've come too."

"Me? Why? I don't know Remus that much, I only saw him once."

Mary frowned, and a new wrinkle appeared on her forehead, cutting vertically through the middle of it. "You know Remus since you were five."

Peter sighed. "Yeah, I know. What I meant is... Peter Portman only saw him once."

"Peter Portman," Mary muttered under her breath, the annoyance in her voice causing her son to chuckle.

"And anyway, Remus and I aren't... I mean, he disappeared from my life for most of my childhood!” Peter exclaimed, and was surprised himself by the resentment in his voice. It had been so long ago, it shouldn't still hurt so much. “And we barely saw each other once Hogwarts was over,” he continued on a quieter tone. “Not to mention the last ten years."

"And whose fault is-"

A ring at the door interrupted her. They shared a worried look as the doorbell rang again. "Coming!" she called, and moved to the entryway.

"Who's there?" she asked warily. She wasn't used to visits, the only person who'd been visiting her as of recent was her son.

"It's me. Remus."

Mary turned to look at her son, with an astounded expression. She felt even more astonished, and her eyes widened in bewilderment, as she observed Peter's body shrinking until the man had disappeared, leaving a little brownish rat in his place. She observed him sneaking away, disconcerted. How many other thinks had her son hidden from her? She shook her head, as if to free it from the shock, before finally unlocking the door to let the other boy in.

"Remus! What are you doing here?"

"Erm... I..." Remus was looking at his feet, his face reddened in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to bother you, Mrs. Pettigrew... I can come back another time, if..."

"Oh, don't be silly! You're not bothering me, I'm only surprised to see you. And stop calling me that, it's Mary!"

He smiled tentatively as she took his coat and hang it on to the hanger in the entryway. Then she led him to the kitchen, where she'd been having tea with her son only a few moment before.

"Was someone here?" Remus asked surprised, noticing the two cups still on the table.

"Oh, yes. An old friend of mine. He left only a few minutes ago," she replied. Then with a flick of her wand she sent the two cups into the washbowl and conjured two new polished ones from the cupboard. "Do you want some tea?"

"Please," he answered gratefully as he sat down.

"So, how are you doing?" she asked in a sweet tone as she sat too next to him.

He shrugged. "I'm fine..."

"Fine?" She repeated in a doubtful tone, her eyebrows raised. Once again he blushed considerably before he replied. "Well, not _exactly_ fine. But I'm carrying on. I have to, don't I?"

"You're so much like Silvia," she commented, half amused half exasperated.

He sighed. "Wish I were... Mum and Dad were so great, and I... They deserved a better life. They deserved a better son."

"Don't talk about yourself like that! You were a wonderful son to them! Do you remember who you're talking to? Do you remember who _my_ son is?"

"At least Peter isn't a monster," Remus replied bitterly.

"You are no monster, Remus!” she exclaimed angrily and he looked at her astounded. She sighed. “Sure, Peter isn't a werewolf. Just a Death Eater, a murderer, a traitor and a kidnapper. I suppose John and Silvia would've changed with me anytime."

"That's not what I- I'm sorry..."

"Listen, child. It's not your fault if your parents' lives were a bit harder than average. And it's not your fault if they were shorter, either. They loved you, and they knew you loved them. And that's all that counts."

They spent some more time together, mostly reminiscing of the old days, Mary sharing stories about John and Silvia back at Hogwarts and Remus retelling amusing episodes of his own school time with the Marauders. Finally, after an hour or so, they byed each other with a quick, awkward hug. Mary had just shut the door behind him when Peter suddenly popped into existence beside her.

"So that's what I am for you? Just a Death Eater, a murderer, a traitor and a kidnapper?"

"You were listening?" she asked outraged.

"Of course I was."

"Well, I forgot to say ill-mannered snooper."

"Mum..."

"And what is this novelty? Since when are you an Animagus?"

"End of fourth year at Hogwarts..." he took a step back at the murderous look in his mother's eyes. "It wasn't just me. James had the idea, actually. James, Sirius and I... we wanted to stay with Remus during full moons."

" _What?!_ And Remus agreed to this foolishness?!"

"Not exactly... But we didn't really take his opinion on the matter into account..."

Mary wanted to reprimand him some more, then thought better of it. "That was brave," she commented instead.

Peter shrugged. "Must be a reason, if we were Gryffindors."

She smiled and reached out to caress his cheek. "Yes, I suppose so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I've been very bad at updating this story here... my apologies... anyway, here's another chapter for you! :)
> 
> If you have a moment to spare, I would be delighted to know your thoughts about the story so far!
> 
> Thanks for reading and many hugs!
> 
> Chiara


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